Lost Love and Memories
by RodeoRogue
Summary: Logan unknowingly returns to Canada, where he finds people who remember him, but he doesn't know. Can he find his memory and set things right? Spoilers, more info before first chapter. Please read! KaylaxWolverine, and others
1. Chapter 1

**So I just watched the movie X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and I'm totally hooked! So of course the first thing I do is run to my laptop and start writing! Although, I hadn't seen the original movies before writing this, so this is only from seeing the prequel.  
**

**Here's a little bit of info to help you understand the setting: Logan still doesn't have his memory, and has spent the last fifteen years wandering around and hiding from people who want him dead or worse. He makes his way back up to his hometown in Canada, where he runs into some new and old friends, including Kayla, who actually did live. Can he get his memory back and re-win his girl? Here's the beginning of the story:**

Logan jogged silently by himself through the Canadian wilderness. It was early on an autumn morning, so the air was crisp and dry on his bare shoulders and arms. The only sound besides the rare birdsong was his dog-tags jingling around his neck—his only remains of his battle with Stryker. The sight of the leaves changing to their fall hues before retiring to the earth was brilliant through his dark eyes. He could smell the trees and ground around him with superhuman clarity.

But something else was tugging at his senses. At first he thought that it was his memories, which was haunted him like waking nightmares and bubbled up to the surface of his consciousness without provocation. It wasn't for another moment or two before he realized that it wasn't in his head. There was the awful stench of humans and weapons—never a wise combination—upwind, but also something else. It wasn't something that he regularly was exposed to: another mutant.

He stopped running and stood very still, listening for more information to the combination of scents. Then he heard distinct voices not very far in front of him. He continued to jog calmly in their direction, although his attention was piqued, and the anticipation of a fight nagged at him to hurry. He stopped again at the line of trees that led to a road and hid in the shadows.

In the middle of the road was a girl—probably only sixteen or seventeen—surrounded by five armed men. They all wore the uniforms of a certain government project that he knew all too well. They all looked very frightened and inexperienced, except for one. He seemed to be leading the group of soldiers.

The girl in the center was obviously the mutant he had sensed. She wasn't very tall, with a general teenage girl shape. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, and was made up of long wild tresses that reached halfway down her back. Even from his cover in the trees, Logan could see her icy blue eyes shine with fury. When she showed her teeth sneering at one of the guards, he could see that she had slight fangs. And on her fingers were curved, sharp talon-like claws.

She looked very familiar, and at the same time very distant.

One of the men stepped towards her warily, holding a small taser. The girl hissed and lunged at him, swiping a clawed hand in an arc towards his neck. He tried to avoid the assault, but she moved so fast he dropped to his knees, dead, an instant later. This caused the rest of the group to move in on her. Two more attacked her at the same time. One tried to hit her on the head with the butt of his rifle, but she carelessly stepped to the side and grabbed his arm, snapping his wrist in the process. The other man, trying to come to his comrade's aid, pulled out a knife and stabbed at her.

Teeth bared, she decapitated him. And without a second glance to the last man, moved on the next one. Being the fourth in line to die, he had seen the others get killed. He wasn't so eager to end up the same way. But his captain urged him on. He pointed his gun shakily at the girl, who smiled sadistically lunged at him. He collapsed just seconds later.

Logan watched the ensuing battle with little interest, until he saw the captain of the small squad creeping around to shoot the girl from behind. She was focused on killing the other men, and didn't watch her back. Logan walked silently around the clash and skulked up behind the captain. As he quietly prepared to shoot, Logan unsheathed the three blades on each hand.

Only the girl noticed. She spun around, only to look down the barrel of a gun prepared to fire. Knowing the outcome, she closed her eyes and waited for the loud bang of the gun firing, accompanied by the sharp pain of the bullet. But it never came. She opened her eyes again, and the human was still standing there, only he wasn't shooting, and all the color had drained from his face. He suddenly sank to his knees and toppled over. Now standing in front of her was a large man with blades sprouting from his knuckles.

She stared at him warily, chest heaving from the adrenaline and exertion. She kept her body tense to keep the shaking from becoming visible. Logan recognized this, and pulled the silver blades back under his skin and put his hands up submissively. "Who are you?" The girl asked, her voice steady and confident, though her shoulders were tense and her eyes raged with a fierce light from the fight that was still coursing through her.

Logan took a step back, and answered, "I could ask you the same thing." She narrowed her eyes at him and prepared to strike, and he put his hands up again and continued, "Logan. And I'm not here to hurt you. If I wanted that I wouldn't have killed the guy trying to shoot you."

Her breathing was becoming steadier, and she wasn't balancing on the balls of her feet anymore. Reason was making its way back into her head, and she recognized the truth of the statement. Though her body stayed rigid, she retracted the claws. To Logan's surprise, when she did that, her eyes changed color. They no longer shone a brilliant but dangerous cyan, but were now a soft brown, making her look more human and much kinder.

"What about you? I told you who I was." He continued, though he didn't demand. He didn't doubt that, even though she was half his size, she wouldn't hesitate to fight him.

"That's not important," she told him, still guarded. She crossed her arms over her chest, and, feeling the dampness of it, pulled them away. Blood covered the pale skin of her arms. She looked down at her white tank top, which was stained with blood. "Shit," she muttered under her breath, "how am I going to explain _this_ to my mom?"

Logan regarded the girl with curiosity. "Anything I can do to help?" He offered halfheartedly.

"Not unless you have an excuse as to why I'm covered in blood. I was supposed to be on my way to school." She said angrily, mock amusement in her voice.

"I'm sure I could come up with something…" He pondered out loud, thinking of a few stories that might convince the girl's mother that it wasn't worth any trouble. As he considered a few, the girl had started to walk away. He jogged a few paces to catch up, and then fell into pace next to her.

"Any ideas? And I don't think she'll be very pleased with the fact that I'm missing school to bring back a complete stranger and tell her I've massacred five people." She mused.

"Four." He corrected her.

"What?"

"You only killed four of those goons. If it weren't for me that last one would've gotten you." He told her matter-of-factly, though he was teasing. She glared at him out of the corner of her eye, and he smirked to himself. He felt a lightheartedness that he hadn't known for a long time.

For the last ten years, he'd wandered about, hiding from and fighting Stryker's menacing government officials. Being the only one to survive had its cost.

"We're almost there, but she probably already knows. I have no idea how she figures it out." The girl mumbled to herself.

"I never did catch your name." He stated.

She glanced at him warily and sighed. "Fine. I suppose you aren't out to kill me. But if you try, boy, you'll regret it." Logan stifled a chuckle. "I'm Acadia."

No sooner had she said that, they left the trees behind and were on a long, winding road. In the distance, on the crest of the hill, was a small house. It was more like a cabin, with a wide front porch and probably only two rooms. The same nagging familiarity that Logan had been feeling all morning was back again, only stronger. He paused and took in his surroundings carefully.

Acadia noticed, and stopped as well. "What's wrong?" She asked, tucking some of her dark hair behind her ear.

Logan shook his head slightly and continued walking. "Nothing… It's just… this place is so familiar…"

She stared at him for a moment, obviously puzzled. "My mother doesn't let many people know where we are, for whatever reason. Strange that you of all people would recognize it."

"Yeah…" He agreed distantly. They continued up the dirt path, until they were at the base of the stairs that led to the porch. Logan leaned nonchalantly against the railing as Acadia continued to the door.

As she tiptoed up the creaky wooden stairs, Logan looked around, taking it all in._ I know I've been here before,_ he thought, _and it seems so important._ He was brought back from his absent thoughts when the front door swung open. The woman that stepped out and grabbed Acadia's arm took him by surprise.

She had the same dark curls as her daughter, with striking grey eyes and slim figure. Logan looked away quickly to keep from staring. It worked… until she spoke.

"What in god's name are you doing here? You should be in school!" She obviously struggled with keeping her voice down. Logan looked back at them and watched as the woman surveyed Acadia. She glanced down at the red blotches on her white shirt, and her jaw dropped. "What—why is there blood all over you?" Her anger turned to concern at the concept of an injury. "Are you hurt?"

Acadia brushed her mother's hands away. "I'm fine! Just give me a chance to tell you what happened. I _was_ going to school. But I was late, so I took the road."

"I told you that—"

"I know what you told me. I had no idea they'd be there. I didn't have any choice." Acadia said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

The woman sat down on the wooden loveseat that was outside the door and put her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. "And you just… left it all there?" Acadia nodded. "Someone's going to find it. They'll send more of them here. I'll call the school and tell them you've become very sick; it won't be safe in town for a while."

As she got up to go inside, Acadia looked back at Logan incredulously, then said, "Although, I would be dead right now if it weren't for him." She jerked a thumb in Logan's direction.

"What?" Her mother stopped and turned around. For the first time, she looked beyond her daughter and noticed him for the first time. She didn't notice it at first, but then she realized who she was looking at. Her eyes grew wide, and she froze. Acadia looked from her mother to the stranger, who was no longer leaning on the railing, but standing up straight and staring straight back at her mother.

She decided to leave them alone and wandered inside, but she went to the window and watched intently.

Her mother still stared at Logan, although she had moved to the edge of the stairs. He was still matching her surprised gaze, but his was more confused than anything.

Her mother spoke first. "What are you doing here?" She sounded very distraught, almost in shock. "After all this time… what are you doing here?"

Logan shook his head in disbelief. He had no idea why he was being accused.

"You don't remember me?" her eyes shone with the threat of tears. She crossed her arms and leaned against the column holding up the porch's roof.

"Should I?" He said distantly. He climbed the stairs of the porch, until his face was only inches from hers. Her breathing quickened, while his remained at the same ragged tempo. "What's your name?"

"Kayla."

**So.... You likey? Review if you do!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I'm very thankful for the two people who are following this. Thanks a bunch! Here's chapter 2**

He stared at her for a long time, a very confused and lost expression on his face.

He looked more rugged and wilder than she remembered; almost like he had let his animal nature take over him completely. Although, it _had_ been over fifteen years. "Logan…" She mumbled, glancing at the window where she knew Acadia was.

"How do you know my name?" He asked defensively.

The tears finally spilled onto her cheeks. Logan wanted to wipe them away, but decided against it. They were still close enough to hear each other's breath, and he watched, motionless, as she reached for his dog tags with an unsteady hand. She pulled them away from his chest and read them. LOGAN, and on the other: WOLVERINE. "I gave you this name…" She muttered with a shaky voice.

"What was that?" He cocked his head to the side, even though he clearly heard her. But she only shook her head.

Suddenly, Kayla pushed away from him. "You shouldn't stay here," she said formally, "with those dead soldiers, the town and woods will be overrun with hunters."

"Alright,." Logan acquiesced quietly. "I'll go." He turned away and walked down the steps.

He was just about to break into a run, when Acadia ran out of the front door. "You said it yourself, mom. The whole town will filled with people trying to find us. That's why he should stay. Going out on his own might mean that they find him, and blame him for something that wasn't his fault."

"Acadia, he can't—" Kayla started.

"Why don't you want him here?" She asked. For some reason, she was angry that he had to leave. There was something about him that she liked. Not romantically, of course, but he just seemed familiar. And she was obviously right with the way her mother reacted. "He isn't a stranger."

Logan stopped and watched the two ladies argue over whether he should stay or go. Kayla looked from her daughter to Logan, and then threw her hands up. "Fine. He can stay. But only as long as is necessary." She left them both outside and retreated to the house.

Acadia looked pleased with herself, and motioned for Logan to follow her inside.

He followed her into the house. In a rush, fragments of memories flooded through his mind. He put his hand on his head and leaned against the door frame. Acadia turned around. "Are you alright?" He grimaced and nodded. Shrugging, she turned away.

She looked at her angered mother cautiously, and left down the hall to her room to change her clothes. Kayla watched her go, then walked over to a dresser and pulled out a few blankets. "Sorry, but the only place for you is the couch."

"That's fine," He mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, wishing that there wasn't such an awkward feeling between them. She tossed him the blankets and went to the kitchen. He absentmindedly put them on the couch and followed her.

She was leaning on the counter, facing away from him. Without turning around, she asked, "Why did you come back?"

"I didn't know I was ever here before." Logan admitted truthfully, "I've been wandering around for years." He chuckled, a little hysterically.

"Well, of course you don't." She told him curtly and he cringed. She turned around and stared at him through tear-filled eyes.

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" Logan asked, now as angry as her.

"If you hadn't gotten yourself shot by Stryker—" Kayla stopped talking when she saw the surprised look on his face.

"What happened?" He asked, almost inaudibly. He walked slowly towards her, almost cautiously.

Kayla bit her lip. "You were shot with a special bullet that damaged your memory. That's why you don't remember… I'm sorry…" She wrapped her arms around him as an apology, her anger with him suddenly gone. But he didn't react to her touch.

"Is there any way to get rid of them?" He asked brusquely.

She shook her head. "I don't think so, but maybe. But even if there was, who is there to do something like that?" She let go of him and left the room.

Logan leaned against the counter and stared at Kayla as she left. His jaw dropped slightly at her words. Then he shut his mouth and walked back into the living room. Two stacks of clothing were sitting on the couch next to the blankets. Logan picked them up curiously. His size, his shape, his style. But they couldn't have known that he was coming, unless they had acted out the last half-hour.

He knew Acadia had walked in before she said anything. He put the shirt he was holding back on the couch. "I always wondered whose clothes those were." She said. Her dark hair was wet and fell onto her shoulders, and her bangs stuck to her forehead. "I just wanted to tell you that you can use the shower if you need it. And if you're trying to impress my mom, I suggest it."

Logan looked down at himself. Living in the forests and hiding, he had never paid any attention to his appearance. But now that he looked, his undershirt was stained and dirty, and so were his jeans. Dirt and blood were dried onto his tan skin. "Thanks." He muttered, slightly embarrassed. Acadia laughed quietly and walked away.

Logan took her offer of the shower, and cleaned away all of the dirt and changed into some of the clean clothes that had been put out for him. Then he threw his old clothes in the trash outside. It felt strange to be so clean, and the clothes felt brand new, even though they were old and worn. He sat on the couch by himself, at a loss for things to do. Something reflecting the afternoon light caught his attention.

He picked it up. They were his dog tags. He read the embossed words over and over, twisting the metal pieces around in his hands. They were everything besides himself that was left when he woke up on The Island. He thought over and over again about what Kayla had said. His memory was damaged, probably forever. That idea made him so angry, he threw the dog tags across the room. His attention was so focused that he didn't hear or even see Kayla pass him.

"Shit," He heard her say from the kitchen. Warily, he got up and walked in.

"What is it?" He asked.

She shook her head, looking through the fridge and cabinets. "We have barely anything to eat around here." She stopped rummaging through the pantry to look at him. "And I'm afraid that if we go to town to buy food, they'll catch her."

Logan thought about this for a moment. "I'll go." He suggested.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"Of course. Just write me a list." At first she seemed to dislike the offer, but then agreed.

"If anyone sees you, don't lead them back here." Kayla told him as she gave him the list. "I won't ever let them have Acadia." She said vehemently.

"I wouldn't let that happen." He promised her. He took the list and money, got in her truck, and drove down the dirt road towards town.

**End of chapter two. Any feedback?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to the people who liked it enough to add it to their story alerts list. :) I suppose that means it's good lol. And I changed it a bit, the first movie did happen, and the beginning of the second, but not anything else. Play pretend that none of that shit happened :P**

Logan wandered the isles of the small grocery in the small Canadian town, checking off items as he found them.

He saw many who smiled at the sight of him, and realized that he must have lived here and that people recognize him. But he refused to talk to anyone. Even the sight of him being there might give something away. And the last he wanted to do was endanger the strangers who are taking care of him.

Luckily, his shopping trip was uneventful, and that gave him time to think. When he returned to the cabin and brought the food in, it was already late afternoon. Kayla thanked him politely, without any more words than necessary.

A few days passed without incident. Nobody had come to bother them, and on the only trip into town that Logan took, he didn't hear one word of five dead men on the side of the road. _They must be keeping it quiet, _he had thought. Logan had begun to enjoy the company of other people again, if though he never let it show. He also felt obligated to help protect them, even though Acadia could argue that she could take care of it.

It was evening, and the sun was setting over the tops of the trees. But it was a degree or two warmer than the last few days had been. Logan headed for the door silently. "I'm going to go for a walk." He told Kayla. He left without waiting for her reply. He walked down the dirt road that led from the house to the town. Once he reached the trees, he left the road and walked through the forest.

He kept walking, without a destination or purpose. But he knew that he was being followed. His senses were on edge, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up with a twig cracked about twenty feet behind him. He didn't feel like he was in danger, though, because he already knew who it was.

He stopped walking and leaned against a tree. "Why did you follow me, kid?" He called out to the forest. The fading light cast elongated shadows and painted the trees and leaves the color of the sunset.

Acadia stepped out from behind a wide tree. "I don't know, I felt like it." She answered him. "Did you know it was me?" He nodded. She walked over to him. "I don't know you do that. Mom can do it, too."

"Well, you aren't exactly stealthy." He joked. But it was true. He knew she was there practically the entire time. "So, what was your reason for following me, again?"

"I want to know why she hates you so much." Acadia admitted.

"Who?" Logan asked, trying to avoid the subject.

Acadia raised her eyebrows incredulously. "You really don't know anything, do you?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Not my fault."

Logan shrugged away from the tree he was leaning on and turned away from her. "I don't know anything that happened before the last fifteen years…"

Acadia was silent for a long time before she said anything. At last, she opened her mouth to speak. "I'm sorry for you."

Logan nodded. "Damn it! I wish—" He didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he drew out the long blades from his knuckles and slashed furiously at the nearest tree. After he had nearly cut through the entire trunk, he stepped back. His chest rose and fell visibly with anger. With one last desperate flow of fury, he punched the scarred tree, leaving crater the size of his fist, three deep holes, and causing it to shudder and snap in half.

Acadia sat with her back against a log, watching his onslaught against nature with fascination. When Logan did finally calm down enough to retract the blades and face her, her mouth hung open and her eyes were bright blue once more. "Why does that happen?" He asked her gruffly.

"What, your bursts of violence? I have no idea, I've only known you for a day." She answered sarcastically.

"No!" He said, aggravated. "Your eyes! Why do they change color? They were blue when you attacked the guards, they were brown all afternoon, and now they're blue again. Why?"

"Oh." She mumbled. Her eyes switched back, and she explained, "They usually do that in accordance with strong emotion. Fear, anger, passion… you get the idea."

Logan nodded his head. "What else do you do?"

Acadia held up her hand with the back of it facing him. Slowly, her nails began to sharpen and curl, until they were inch-and-a-half long, curved claws. Then she opened her mouth and bared her teeth. She already possessed four sharper than normal teeth, but as Logan watched, her cuspids grew, revealing elongated, pearly fangs. Then she pulled them back into her gums, leaving just slightly too-long teeth in their place, and shrank back her claws. She looked back at Logan with a proud expression. "And I'm pretty damn strong and fast."

"So you're a feral." Logan clarified, his arms crossed over his muscular chest.

"A what?" Acadia asked him.

"A feral. It's a certain type of mutation, where the person is very animalistic and primal. Say what you want about being human," his voice took on a cold edge, "but you're an animal."

Acadia narrowed her eyes. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because I'm one, too." He stated, bringing out the six gleaming claws for her to see. She stared at them, fascinated. She hadn't been able to see them that well the day before, when she was still blinded by rage and instinct. And, now that she thought about it, he did have a point about being some sort of animal.

"So, you're just like me?" Acadia asked, looking at her own shabby claws, they looked brittle and made her feel defenseless against those shining knives between Logan's knuckles. And she hated feeling defenseless.

Logan paused, and answered, "Not exactly. These used to be bone, not metal. Plus, I'm indestructible."

"Someone's got an ego." Acadia joked.

"No, literally." As proof, he brought the three silver knives down on his arm. There was a hiss of metal on flesh as his arm was ripped open in three parallel lines. Soon he felt the strange tingling itch of his skin healing rapidly, and he resisted the urge to scratch it.

Acadia jumped up in surprise. She watched as his skin knit together, leaving absolutely no sign that anything had happened. Logan chuckled at her reaction. "I'd have a lot of scars if it weren't for this little talent."

"I don't even heal that fast. And how'd you get 'indestructable,' anyways?" She asked skeptically.

"Just a part of me. Been that way since I can remember. And being experimented on by humans has its ups and downs. They injected me with a very strong metal called Adamantium. But, apparently, I consented, so there's nothing I can do."

"How strange." Acadia pondered, but then froze. She sniffed the air, and glanced around the forest. Her eyes shifted to bright blue in the process. "Someone's here."

Logan was doing the same. "I know." He looked at the sun, which was resting the horizon getting ready to set. "We should get back. Will I get in trouble because you followed me?"

"Probably," She answered as they began to run.

"Great…" He mumbled, as the threatening smell grew stronger in his nostrils.

They hurried back the way they had come. About halfway there, Logan stopped, pulling Acadia back with him. "Stop running," he told her, "we're surrounded."

Acadia's eyes turned bright cyan as she looked in every direction. "Do we fight?" She hissed through her fangs.

"Only if we have to. Come on." He pulled her after him as he took another route through the dense brush. Out of the nowhere, two men in dark camouflage jumped out from behind the trees. Logan slid to a stop, looking around for more. "Is that it?" He asked them incredulously. As he said that, multiple men, clothed similarly as the first two, revealed themselves. "Shit."

"Well," Logan let go of Acadia's arm, "it looks like we're fighting, kid. Get ready." He didn't have to look at her to know what she was doing. She would be standing on the balls of her feet, muscles tense and ready to spring like a pouncing cat. Her eyes would glow with malicious intent.

He, on the other hand, remained relatively calm, right up until he had to kill someone; although, he usually had a cigar to do that for him. Without it, he became anxious much quicker. He stood quietly, looking around him as the soldiers moved in cautiously. "When?" He heard Acadia ask him urgently under her breath.

He put up a hand to stop her. "Wait… they need to be closer."

A small group of soldiers surrounding something approached them in a perfect form. The men in the front of the group moved to the side and the whole ensemble stopped about twenty feet in front of Logan and Acadia. There was tall, lanky man standing in the middle of the protective circle. He wore military uniforms, but also boasted a medal and an aura of superiority. Logan rolled his eyes, which caused the soldiers closest to him to raise their guns.

"Good evening," The tall man called to them, for he didn't dare close the distance and endanger himself. "I am General Steven Marx."

Logan had a vague sense of what was going on. "Acadia, calm down!" He hissed out of the corner of his mouth. He snuck a look back at her, and she was already back to herself, though the iris's of her eyes were still stained cyan, and she was poised to run. He nodded to her, then faced the general once more. "Yeah? What makes you so special? What the hell do you want?"

General Marx chuckled dismissively. "I am taking over the position of William Stryker." Logan's eyes widened for not even a second, but the gesture was caught. Marx smiled. "I'm sure you've heard of him. Being mutants, of course you have."

"That still doesn't tell me what the hell you want." Logan called back indignantly.

"Quite right. I am here to apprehend one... Wolverine." He stated, glancing at a clip board held up by one of his guards.

Logan's eyes narrowed instinctively. "Never heard of him. So if you'll let us go—"

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that. You'll just have to do until I can find who I'm looking for." General Marx told them. His shifty, beady eyes and malicious smile told Logan that it was useless to bluff.

Maybe useless to bluff, but not to fight. "Now!" He yelled, and sprang forward. He landed on the two soldiers who were coming up behind him, stabbing them through their chests. He cut them down as they ran at him. He was just about to strike at one in front of him when there was a stabbing pain in his shoulder. He felt the blood begin to pour onto his skin and knew he had been shot. He grunted at the pain and grimaced, already feeling his body reject the bullet.

Seconds later, he was fine. He steadied himself. The man in front of him was staring in amazement, frozen to the spot. Logan glared at him, snarled, and jumped onto him and stabbed him through the stomach. They both flew back, and Logan landed on top of the other man's body. He stood up and looked around wildly for Acadia.

She was fighting two of the soldiers. She struck at the head of one, while looking at the other and continuing the attack. One of them fell, while the other kept driving her back. Logan could see that he was pushing her towards the road, which they had run for to try and escape. _There must be a van waiting,_ he thought.

But before he could go to help her, another two guards were running at him. "How many of you are there?" He asked, exasperated, to no one in particular. He attacked one of them, smacking the man to the ground. Logan stole his gun and pointed it at the other soldier. He fired off a few rounds at every soldier within his incredible vision. Then he threw the gun away and sprinted to the road. He slid to a stop on the dirt and watched how the guard was still pushing her back. But now the van, as he had suspected, was in plain sight.

Acadia didn't seem to notice it though. She was too focused on the fight in front of her, that she only realized someone was behind her when they grabbed her. "Acadia!" He yelled. Even though his chest was heaving from exertion, he bolted the short distance to the van and two men. One was the soldier who had successfully lured her away, and the other had come out of the van was wearing a lab coat and holding a short-needled syringe with a strange black liquid.

Acadia struggled and tried to wriggle away from them, but the burly soldier held her tightly, and her claws and teeth were of no use. Logan ran, but could only watch as the scientist shoved the needle into the crook of her arm. Her struggling and wild curses slowed until they ceased and her eyelids drooped. Logan ran up to them as they were trying to carry her into a cell in the van. They were obviously so transfixed in trying to sedate Acadia, that they hadn't noticed Logan sprinting towards them.

He grabbed the scientist the collar of his shirt and hoisted him easily off his feet. He glared at him dangerously, before slashing his body open savagely. The soldier had dropped Acadia and was coming after him now. Logan turned around to face him, the force of his blind rage focused itself on the muscled human. As Logan tried to stab him, he shot his hand up and grabbed Logan's wrist, twisting it until he heard it snap.

Logan roared in pain, and stabbed him in the stomach, snatching his injured arm back from the other man's hand. He watched the human drop to his knees, doubled over and bleeding, with his lip curled back in disgust. He waited for his arm to rearrange and heal itself before hurrying over to Acadia. She was knocked out from the sedative, and lay sprawled out on the road. Blood covered her face and clothes once more, and Logan could see that some of it was coming from her own rapidly healing wounds.

Logan picked her up gingerly, holding her cradled to his chest. As he began to walk down the road towards home, a voice stopped him. "That was impressive, Wolverine." He turned around slowly, to face General Marx. "What? You didn't think I knew? Well, even if I didn't in the first place, you definitely gave yourself away with that magnificent display." Logan glanced down at Acadia to make sure that she was still passed out, then glared at the general. "I've heard plenty about you, Wolverine. You are a mighty fighter, a mighty animal." That same terrible grin adorned his smug face.

Marx turned on his heel and started to walk away, before stopping and turning back around. "Oh, and I'll be staying nearby, if you ever want to have a civilized conversation. I'm sure you can sniff me out."

Logan resisted the temptation to drop Acadia and rip the throat from the sorry excuse for a man. Instead, he turned back and continued walking. "I'll come back, you know," he heard the same voice call after him, "and I'll make sure to get the girl as well. She fights almost at well as you."

Logan ignored the statement and continued walking. He knew nobody was following them; there was no one left to do such a thing. The sun was completely down now and the light was fading from the sky, sending the unbroken forest into unrelenting darkness. Every now and then, he would look down at Acadia and make sure that she was still breathing. He had no idea what they had given her, and hoped that it was only a sedative.

The dark shape and dimly lit windows of the house came into view after a while. Walking in the darkness, Logan had lost track of time. As soon as he reached the edge of the light from the house, Kayla was rushing at him. "Where were you?" She asked him urgently, and looked with concern at her daughter. "Oh god, please tell me she's alive."

Logan rolled his eyes at the dramatic line. "She's alive; only sedated." He followed Kayla into the house. "Where should I put her?"

"In her room." She said, and led the way down the hall and held the door to one of the bedrooms for him. It was a simple room, with a few pictures, stickers and posters plastered everywhere, and clothes on the floor. Logan put her on her bed on the far side of the room. He backed away so that Kayla could sit on the edge of the bed.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching the silent tears fall from Kayla's eyes for the second time that day. "She probably won't wake up until tomorrow morning." He said quietly, hating to interrupt.

"This all is your fault." She stated flatly without looking at him.

Logan narrowed his eyes as she continued. "If you hadn't come here, our lives would normal, and she wouldn't be drugged like this! If it weren't for you, she wouldn't have been in the forest." Her voice had risen with her anger, and soon she was standing nose to nose with him.

Logan met her fierce stare with his own glower. "If it weren't for me, she would be dead! Or worse!" He yelled in defiance. His skin felt flushed and he could feel his blood run hot.

"Oh? And why is that?" Kayla asked sardonically.

"This morning, she was almost killed. If it weren't for _me_ being there, you probably wouldn't have ever seen her again!"

"Just… stop…" They both heard a subtle voice mumble. Kayla looked at Acadia, who was now silent.

Kayla looked back at Logan. "I thought you said she wouldn't be awake until morning?"

Logan scratched his head. "She shouldn't have even heard anything. Either they didn't administer the full dose—which I know they did—or she is resistant to whatever they used; which isn't likely because they have a way of making sure those kinds of things work."

"Strange…" Kayla pushed Acadia's dark hair away from her face.

She stood up from the bed and wiped the slight tears from her eyes. "Go get cleaned up, and come tell me what happened."

Logan nodded and left the room without a word. He did as she said, not wanting to upset her even more. Once he was clean, and changed into a pair of dark sweat pants, he threw away yet another set of blood-soaked, ripped clothes. Then he sat on the couch next to Kayla. He didn't say anything, until she asked him what happened. He recounted how she had followed him, and then they were surrounded.

"A new Stryker… that's not good." She said worriedly.

"No, it's really not." Logan agreed cynically. "And what's worse, Acadia and I had been talking about our mutations, and I'm sure they heard and saw. That means they know what she can do."

"Damn it," Kayla cursed under her breath, but she changed the subject quickly. "Did he say why he wanted you?" She inquired.

"No, I didn't get a chance to ask him while I was killing all of his men." He answered sarcastically. She smiled slightly at him, before it faded to worry once more.

They were silent for a long time, before Kayla said, "You know, I could argue that having you here for one day has already ruined our lives. And it has. But I have to admit, I've missed you."

Logan was at a loss for words. He didn't remember her, at all. Try as he might, his mind didn't respond to her name and face like he thought it should. He glared at the floor, trying to think of something to say. Then he felt a soft hand on his arm. "You don't have to say anything." He nodded thankfully to her.

Kayla stood up. "Well, you must be exhausted. I know I am. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," Logan mumbled as he watched her leave the room. She flipped the light switch as she went, and plunged him into darkness. Absently, he grabbed one of the thin blankets over his shoulders and rested his head on the pillow. He didn't know how tired he was, until he was laying there on the couch and fell asleep almost instantly.

**Kind of long, but all of the places I could've stopped it weren't quite right. So you got lucky with a long chapter! Read and review, please?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, hi. :) So I'm glad people like this story, the next chapter will be up soon. But I just wanted to add a few things.**

**So, first off, I have found a surprising number of songs that pertain to this story quite well. Pretty much all of them are by Red, but some aren't.**

**Start Again - Red**

**Fight Inside - Red**

**Why - Secondhand Serenade**

**Pretend - Secondhand Serenade**

**Pieces - Red**

**The Beauty and the Tragedy - Trading Yesterday**

**If I think of more, which I probably will, I'll let you know.**

**Next chapter up soon!**

_**xPrincetonx**_


	5. Chapter 5

_Logan was standing in the lumber yard, cutting wood with a group of men. They appeared to be his close friends, although he couldn't recognize any of the faces that he saw. He was in a particularly good mood, until his sense of smell picked up something strange in the air. It was a recognizable scent, but one he hated. He ran off into the woods, and saw the long gashes in a tree trunk, and the severed head of an animal. Suddenly, he took off running like a wild man through the brush and around trees. He left the forest behind and came out on a dirt road. His car was sitting there, idle, with long grooves in the hood, as if it were scratched by some animal. He continued running, until he saw a crumpled form on the ground, with blue clothes stained red. It was Kayla, splattered with blood. He checked her pulse multiple times, but she was gone. He cried out in agony and held her body close to him…_

… And then woke up. His eyes shot open and he looked around wildly. He vaguely realized that he was still on the couch in the small cabin. He sat up slowly, shaking away the grief and anger from the vivid nightmare. He rested his head in his hands, and noticed that he was covered in sweat. His hair, which was simply pushed back out of his face, clung to his neck and forehead. It was already light out, with the shadows of the window panes stretching across the wooden floor of the living room.

Logan stood up, and noticed the blanket on the ground under his feet. He picked it up and put it on the couch, and then wandered into the kitchen. He looked through the fridge desperately. "Where the hell is that beer?" He mumbled, annoyed. Finally, he gave up and searched the cabinets for a glass. When he found one, filled it with water from the sink and gulped it down rapidly.

Upon hearing someone shuffling towards the kitchen, Logan glanced at the entryway. Acadia limped into view. Her hair was matted on the side of her head that she had been sleeping on. She smiled at him wearily. "Morning," she said.

"How're you feeling, kid?" He asked, filling up his glass with more water. He got another glass and filled it as well, and then handed it to Acadia. She nodded gratefully and took it.

"Sore, and tired, and I feel like I've been hit by a semi. You?" She asked after she drank some of the water that Logan had given her.

He chuckled. "Wait till you get a hangover. And I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He glanced at her curiously before he said, "But I've never seen anyone ever react like that. Usually, we're fine when we come out of it; like it never happened. But there isn't ever any consciousness after you get shot. And you were talking. Unless…" He trailed off and his eyes glazed over as he thought.

Acadia stared at him expectantly. "Unless… what?" She prompted.

"… Unless they've altered it," he finished his thought. "Damn it. If they did, it's not just us who are in trouble." He paused once more to think. "The only way to find out if it's you or the drug is for someone else to get injected with it." His eyes glinted with a terrible idea.

Logan rushed out of the kitchen, and ran right into Kayla. She yelped in surprise, and began to fall back. Logan, with much better reflexes, reached out and grabbed her upper arms. He pulled back onto her feet to steady her. "You okay?" He checked.

Kayla nodded. "Yeah." She watched him hastily grab some of the clothes that she had given him. She saw Acadia in the kitchen and joined her. "How are you feeling?" She asked, putting an arm over Acadia's shoulders.

"Fine. Weird, but fine." She assured her mother. She watched Logan, who was desperately searching for his shoes.

Kayla left Acadia and walked into the living room. "Looking for something?" She asked Logan.

"Yeah, my shoes…" He answered, as he found them and pulled them onto his feet. As soon as they were on, he was at the door and leaving.

Kayla followed him, pulling her robe tighter around her shoulders as the frigid morning air blew through the open door. "Where are you going?"

Logan paused in his mad rush to answer. "I'm going to go find Marx." He called back, and took off.

Kayla shook her head and hurried back inside. Acadia was sitting cross-legged on the couch. "Where's he going?" She asked.

"To find trouble." She answered cynically.

Logan ran down the road into town. His senses were on edge, and every smell and sound was much stronger than it normally would be. He knew where he was going and what he was getting into. If this new drug really was altered, it might work on him. It had been quite some time since any of those human's methods had done anything to stand in his way. The town came into view, and he began to walk as soon as he was close enough to see individuals.

He stalked through the streets, taking in the scents of all the different people and things. None of them were what he was looking for. He knew Marx would have his soldiers stationed here, but as to where he was, Logan couldn't be sure. He continued checking all of the streets and the hotel, until his stomach growled at him to remind him that he hadn't eaten since two days before. Realizing that he didn't have any money, he ignored the empty feeling of starvation and pressed on.

Just as he was about to give up, the chilly wind sweeping through the town caught Logan by surprise. It was exactly the sign he needed to find General Marx. He went as fast as he could without running conspicuously. Just as the scent was becoming stronger, someone he passed crossing the road grabbed his arm.

"Logan!" A burly voice exclaimed cheerfully. "It's good to see you!"

Logan turned around to face a short, stocky man who was probably in his upper forties. He had thick, unkempt stubble on his face and wild red hair on his head. He wore faded blue jeans and thick jacket over a button down shirt. He looked just like almost every other man in the town. His only salient feature was his crimson hair.

"I heard you were back in town, but I didn't believe it. Now I do!" He chuckled and pulled Logan along with him to the other side of the road.

"Good to see you, too." Logan smiled reluctantly.

"My God, how long has it been? Fifteen years? And you still look great! Me, on the other hand… well, you can see for yourself." The stout little lumberjack chuckled deeply once more. "Hey, I've got an idea. Let's go over to the tavern and catch up, eh? It's on me."

"Alright." Logan answered. This time, his smile was genuine. He was starved, and needed a beer. It didn't matter to him that it was the morning. He walked with the stranger to the tavern on the edge of town. They walked in and got a table, and they seated themselves at the bar.

"Hey, John! You're here early." The bartender said to the red-haired man. _John is his name,_ Logan thought, breathing a sigh of relief that he didn't have to ask for a name.

They ordered their drinks and food, and sat there for a good hour talking about old times. John even handed him a cigar, which he accepted without a thought. Logan bluffed through the entire conversation, waiting for talkative little John to bring up a story.

Logan wasn't even remotely interested in their talk, until John said, "You seen your old girl Kayla since you been back?" Something in the tone of the question made Logan think that the next topic wasn't very positive.

Instead of telling John that he was staying with her, he took a swig from his beer and said, "No, what about her?"

"Well, of course you remember when she was attacked. She came back a few months later, and went back to live in the house you two shared. Anyway, now she has a daughter—no husband. She still teaches at the elementary school, though. Her daughter's, like, sixteen? I'm not sure." He waved his thick hand dismissively.

"Interesting…" Logan added, peeling at the edge of his beer bottle's label.

John switched the subject. "I never did hear where you ran off to. After you fought with that guy from outta town, I never heard from you again."

"Fight?" Logan couldn't help but ask.

"God, has it really been that long?" John's eyes widened with surprise. "Time really does fly. You got into a brawl with a guy before you left. It was real bad, somebody who was there said you pulled a knife on him."

Logan was silent for a moment, then lied, "Oh, yeah, that fight. Eh, I went looking for him, but gave up on it. Then I just stayed where I was."

John nodded thoughtfully, seeming to accept the excuse. He paid for the tab. "Well, it was good to see you again." He stood up from his barstool and put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "I'll see ya around."

Logan watched him go. Despite not remembering anything about him, he had liked talking to John. Plus, he heard a few stories about himself from before the Adamantium bullet.

Without the talkative, ginger-haired lumberjack to keep him company, Logan remembered what he had set out to do and returned to his grim and angry state. He stalked out of the bar, and attempted to find the street where he had found any sign of Marx. He finally found it, and walked up and down the sidewalk twice with nothing out of the ordinary.

Cursing under his breath, he gave up and headed for the way out. He walked until he couldn't see the town, and then broke into a steady jog. It was a pace that he could move at all day. Unknowingly, he had spent the rest of the morning and into mid-afternoon with his new-old friend.

About five minutes after he had begun to run, he picked up Marx's scent again. This time it was stronger. He continued to follow his way home, secretly hoping that it would lead him right to the general. It did.

Not long after, he saw a flicker of movement in the bushes ahead of him on the left. He stopped and peered into the trees. When nothing happened, he shook it off and persisted. It came again, and this time Logan saw the distinct shape of a person. He cursed under his breath again.

He knew that they were up ahead, waiting for him. But that thought didn't stop him. It never did. Sure enough, as he reached the crest of a slight rise, he could see General Marx and his devout soldiers, clustered around the open doors of that same white truck.

When the man who was keeping watch raised his gun and shouted, the others glanced at him, and then followed the direction that his gun was pointing. Logan could see Marx smile to himself triumphantly.

Logan sauntered down to him and smiled back, maliciously. The guards and soldiers became uneasy as he approached and tightened their protective circle around their leader.

"Did we catch you off guard?" Marx asked with false concern.

"Not exactly." Logan replied brusquely. His eyes flitted around the scene in front of him. He still had no idea what he was going to do.

"Did you decide that a fight wasn't worth it, and you wanted to come quietly? You have some old friends waiting for you back at Alkali Lake." Marx told him. He had stepped into the back of the van and grabbed something from the shelf inside. Logan could see the doors to the cell inside were held open.

Logan wandered closer to the soldiers, who braced themselves and took a step back. "Well, frankly," He began, releasing the blades from between his knuckles. They shone in the afternoon light like freshly sharpened razors, "a fight's always worth it." He grinned and lashed out at the nearest man.

**Suspenseful? I hope so! So what do you think?**

**And to explain a little bit, this new drug is like really important, but I'm not going to say why yet! You'll have to read on to figure it out!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Yay, another chapter! Hope you like! :) Enjoy a cookie whilst you read *hands out cookies* lol**

He slashed his way forward, through the throng of gunmen in front of him. But he suddenly spun around, catching another soldier off guard, one whom had been trying to sneak up behind him. He sliced through the barrel of the rifle and stabbed the man through his weak armor. Turning back to the rest, he continued to practically walk through them.

He was almost to Marx, who was leaning against the van and watching the skirmish, when he realized the last man would be a little tougher to beat. The man carried no weapons, but began a sequence of rapid martial arts. Logan watched as he jumped into the air and brought his foot down, aiming for his head.

He tried to dodge the maneuver, but the heel came down onto his shoulder. Logan was unpleasantly surprised to find that his shoulder had popped. He watched from the ground as the fighter flipped backwards and landed expertly next to Marx. "I don't think you two know each other." He said as he stepped in between them. "Nick, this is Logan. Logan, this is Nick. He's a martial artist, and a very good one. When he was invited onto the Olympic team at the age of ten, we decided to investigate." His ever-present smirk and amused glint in his eyes made Logan want to jump up and slice him apart.

Instead, he had to stagger to his feet, wincing as his useless left arm dangled freely next to him. Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and grabbed his shoulder, pushing it back into place. He bit back a yell from the pain, and waited a few moments as it healed completely. He shook his arm and rolled his shoulder to test it, but it felt as if nothing had happened.

Nick was already nearly in front of him. Logan readied himself as the slight fighter ran at him. Nick lept into the air and tackled Logan, who swiped his clawed fists fiercely, opening long gashes on Nick's sides and stomach. He didn't react to the pain, or didn't even seem to notice.

He landed on Logan as the two flew backward. After a few solid hits to his face, Logan was finally able to push Nick away from him. They both jumped to their feet. Logan risked a glance at Marx. He was nonchalantly leaning against a tree, as if he were watching a rigged horse race. This enraged Logan even more, and renewed his energy slightly.

He advanced on Nick again. He punched wildly, aiming for the face, but the martial artist dodged it and planted a kick on Logan's side. This only infuriated him more, and he punched again, this time aiming for the other man's gut. But at the last second, he switched and jabbed Nick in the nose. He flew backward, struggling to stay on his feet. Logan followed him and punched him again, right under the ribcage. He lost his balance even more, and tried to steady himself on the side of the van.

Logan grabbed him by the throat and lifted him easily from his feet. He pushed him against the van as he dangled above the ground and his face turned purple. Then, he stabbed Nick in the stomach and threw him aside.

Still blinded by rage, he turned his attention to Marx. The general was backing away as inconspicuously as possible. But when he knew he had been spotted, he stopped retreating and attempted to regain his composure.

But Logan was upon him, and he was grabbed by his collar. Logan noticed that what he had been holding the whole time was a large syringe full of that same black liquid. "I'll take that," he said, stealing it from Marx.

"You're not going to kill me… are you?" Marx stuttered, his mind panicking. Then, his eyes glinted with terrible, sadistic happiness. "You wouldn't want me to tell them to use this fantastic little drug on all your pals back at the freak university." Logan glared at him for a long time, before exhaling and putting his hostage back on his feet. "I knew that you wouldn't do that—" he was in the process of straightening his jacket when Logan hit him on the side of the face with his Adamantium-plated fist. He was knocked unconscious instantly.

Logan was about to leave, until he remembered something important and turned back to the unconscious human. He searched the man's jacket pockets, until his face lit up and he pulled his hand out, holding a cigar and a lighter. "Knew I smelled that," He muttered through the cigar in his mouth and he lit it. He grabbed the vial and headed back home.

On his long walk back, he let what Marx had said mull over in his brain. _Freak university…_ Logan pondered, watching the sun set over the mountains. The icy wind whipped around him, but that wasn't what made him shiver; he realized, _Xavier's school!_

Logan threw the door to the cabin open roughly. It was well past sunset, but he didn't bother with being quiet. He set the vial on the coffee table and sat on the couch. Chewing nervously on his cigar, he rolled up him shirt sleeve. He could see his blue vein under the skin even in the dim light from the kitchen's doorway.

He was about to inject himself with the opaque liquid from the syringe, when he heard a soft voice behind him. "We don't smoke in this house." It was Kayla, and, even though her words were serious, her tone was soft.

Logan rolled his eyes defiantly, but pressed the butt of the cigar into his palm, putting it out. He felt the burn rip through his skin, and then reverse as it healed rapidly before his eyes. He tossed the remains of the cigar onto the table and retrieved the vial.

Once more, as he was about to prick his skin, Kayla spoke up. "What is that?"

Logan paused again, the cold needle pressed against his arm. "The sedative that was used on Acadia. I need to see if it was only her reacting to it, or if they changed it. If they did, that may mean that others don't know about it, especially Xavier. I won't let them run experiments on anybody else."

Kayla nodded, and sat down next to him. He glanced at her, and, when she didn't leave, put the wide needle into his vein. It was a terrible feeling, the cold metal slicing through the soft spot of his arm, and even worse when the purple-black mess inside of it entered his system. He felt it rip through his arm and spread through his body. His vision was tinged red; then black; then it blurred and faded. He couldn't even get the needle out of his arm before he collapsed.

Slowly, Logan began to sense his surroundings again. The smell of the cabin drifted through his sensitive nose, and after a brief moment of fear he realized where he was. To his half-awake ears, the cabin was silent, apart from the uneven, anxious breathing of someone next to him. He felt the side of his face pressed against the cool wood of the floor, and his body was twisted awkwardly between the couch and coffee table.

He tried to move, but it body felt stiff, numb, and reluctant. A first for him. Willing his arms to push him off the ground, he got them to reposition, but not to lift his weight. Then he felt to small but strong hands on his shoulders, pulling him up.

Logan fell back onto the couch, feeling totally spent. He even had to struggle to open his eyes, and, when he did, his vision was blurred and fading. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but his throat was too dry for him to do anything but make a choking noise.

Then he finally remembered what had made him this way. _Shit,_ he thought, aggravated. _I've got to call Xavier._ Once more, he made an attempt to sit up, but every part of him screamed in resistance. Giving up on moving his entire body, he rested for a moment, and tried to speak.

"… Have to, call Xavier…" Logan mumbled incoherently.

Through half-lidded eyes, he saw Kayla above him. "What?" She asked, though he only saw her lips form the question. But his vision was already leaving him. He vaguely noticed her mouthing more words, more and more urgently, but the veil of fatigue was already being draped around him. Once more, he slipped into unconsciousness--a deep, dreamless void.

Once more, Logan groggily awoke. His head was resting on the side of the couch, and his whole body ached from immobility. His throat was dry, and his stomach was empty. Plus, his head still spun from the drug, whatever it was.

He decided that he would be able to get up, so he swung his legs over the side of the couch and pulled himself into a sitting position. His head swam at the sudden movement, and his vision blocked out because of it. Then, he looked around. He could tell by the light that it was early morning, on which day he had no idea.

After he noticed that nothing had really changed, he noticed himself. He was still wearing the clothes that he had fought in when he went searching for Marx. They were stained and ripped. It seemed that every time he left the house, he ruined another set of clothes. He stood up shakily and wandered into the kitchen. Acadia was leaning over the counter, eating a bowl of cereal, and Kayla was at the small table with her hands wrapped around a coffee mug. She was staring blankly into the dark drink until she heard him come in.

She looked surprised to see him. "You're awake. How do you feel?"

"Fine," Logan mumbled, but then added, "Damn, I'm usually immune to those."

"Immune to what?" Acadia turned around from the counter, as if noticing Logan for the first time.

"Nothing." Kayla and Logan said at the same time. "How long have I been out?" Logan asked.

"Just since last night." Kayla answered, an edge in her tone. Logan knew that she didn't want Acadia to be told anything. But Logan thought that was hardly fair. He was still a little peeved from finding out that Acadia hadn't known what she was.

Then Logan remembered that he needed to make a phone call. "Where's your phone?"

"Over there," Kayla directed him with her eyes to the kitchen's wall behind him. He picked it up and fumbled with the buttons, trying to remember the number. Kayla glanced over to Acadia, who had finished her breakfast and was watching Logan intently, waiting for answers she knew she would never get from her mother.

"Why don't you go get dressed." Kayla suggested, but the command was obvious. Acadia narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but left.

Logan spoke rapidly on the phone with someone, but Kayla could hardly hear what he was saying. After he was finished telling the person on the other end of the line something in an undertone, he raised his voice again and said, "Yeah, yeah, I'll see you soon. Alright, I'll hurry. Bye."

After he hung up, Logan turned around and leaned up against the wall, closing his eyes. "This is not good." He said, to no one in particular. He opened his dark eyes again and stared at Kayla. "I'm going to have to leave. If I come back, it will probably be the middle of next week. If I don't…" He left the end of the sentence open.

"Where are you going?" She inquired, standing up from the table. "You can't be feeling back to normal."

"I'm not, but that doesn't have anything to do with it." He answered angrily, leaving the room. "Where did you get those clothes? The ones you gave me?" He called over his shoulder, storming down the hallway towards the master bedroom. Kayla followed him. She wordlessly pointed to the wooden dresser pushed up against the far wall. He went to it and pulled out clothes without looking at them.

"That still doesn't answer my question." She persisted, blocking his exit from the room. He looked down at her, tempted to push her aside.

"I have to get that drug to Xavier. When I got it yesterday from that despicable General, he said that he was going to use it on my 'pals at the freak university.' I'm guessing that's Xavier's school. Have you heard of it?"

"Yes…" Kayla answered absently, thinking over what he had told her. Logan, seeing his exit still blocked, turned around and shrugged his bloodied shirt off. He put on a fresh undershirt, a thick plaid button down one over it, and put on a fresh pair of jeans.

He put his boots back on, grabbed the soiled clothes, and went back to where Kayla was standing. He noticed her distinct scent, and memorized it. It was absolutely perfect to him, but, as he stood there, flashes of memories stained the backs of his eyelids. He pushed them aside and opened his eyes, shoving past Kayla. "Besides," he told her, "I might be able to figure out what you were to me. I might find answers."

"Ask me any question, and I'll give you the answer." Kayla told him, her voice almost pleading.

"How would I know you weren't lying?" Logan asked incredulously.

"You would just have to trust me." She said, as if it were obvious.

Logan thought for a moment. "Trust hasn't ever gotten me anywhere."

He continued getting ready to leave. He grabbed an extra pair of clothes and stuffed them in an old backpack—rather bring his own than get stuck in an X-Men uniform. He slipped the chain to his dog tags over his neck and headed for the door.

As he was walking down the front steps, he stopped and turned back. Kayla was waiting at the door. He walked up to her, until he was right in front of her and their bodies almost touched. "Thank you for letting me stay with you. I'll come back if I can." Kayla nodded, but didn't say anything.

She was about to step away from him and go back into the house, but Logan stopped her. He grabbed her arms, as gently as he could, and made her stay there in front of him. He stared into her grey eyes, and bent down and kissed her. At first, she was too surprised to kiss him back, but then he felt her relax into his arms. He didn't ever want to let her go, but knew he had to, so he broke the kiss off. With one last glance at her, he jumped off the porch and jogged away.

**Oooh! He kissed her! Unexpected ending, but now we're going adventuring. Read and Review! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**New chapter! It will probably be the only one until next week. My weekend is super busy! I have a big horse show, AND my birthday! And not just that, my 16TH BIRTHDAY!! OMG I'm so excited! So yeah, Bentley and I are passing out cake to you guys and asking for luck this weekend! :P (Bentley is my horse, just btw) Enjoy the chapter! :)**

Logan continued to jog down the road towards the miniscule town, hoping to hotwire a truck of some sort to get himself to New York. As he made his way through the dense forest, the threatening scent of General Marx still lingered on the road and in the area around it. At first, he thought it was just remnants of the last few days, but it seemed stronger than an old scent. But he ignored it.

By a stroke of good luck, a navy Chevrolet truck was sitting outside a small house on the edge of town. He glanced around quickly, then brought out of his shining Adamantium claws, the one between his pinky and ring finger. He slid it into the car's door down the window's compartment and popped the lock. He hurried into the driver's seat and crossed the wires until he heard the engine roar to life.

He chuckled, a smug grin on his face, and drove off towards Westchester.

Kayla still stood on the porch, rooted to the spot where Logan had kissed her. It had been so long since she had known him like that, and she missed it. There was a special place in hell for Stryker for the things he did, chief among them wiping her Logan's memory. She missed the way things were, but knew that they wouldn't be the same again.

She was still frustrated with him not remembering anything, and she forgot at times that there wasn't anything he could do. But what about her? What if she could use her mutation to _will_ him to remember. But she doubted that it worked like that. When his flesh grew back, his memories didn't. It was that simple.

Sighing, she moved back inside, closing the door to the cold behind her. Acadia was dressed in dark, baggy jeans and a tank top. "Don't you own any girl's clothes?" Kayla joked, tugging at the hem of her daughter's denim pants.

"These are more comfy. You can't fight in designer jeans." Acadia answered stubbornly.

"Who says you'd be fighting?"

Acadia shrugged her shoulders. "It's good to be prepared." She flashed her mother a sharp-toothed grin. Kayla rolled her eyes. They were both silent for a moment, before Acadia asked, "Where did Logan go?"

Kayla twisted the hem of her shirt between her fingers and looked off into the distance, trying to think of something. "He had to leave, and go see his friends in New York. He was never one to stay in one place." She added the last lie to try and convince Acadia that he wasn't worth their time.

"New York? Huh…" She pondered. "Is he coming back? He was cool."

Kayla laughed, but it was slightly hysterical. "Maybe." Then, knowing that her daughter's mutation allowed her read in on more than the average human and would've figured it out anyway, added, "I hope."

The rest of that day inched by slowly, with practically nothing to do. Acadia watched TV most of the afternoon, but they barely had any channels. They _did_ have internet, though, and she spent a lot of time doing that as well. Her and Kayla ate dinner early, and in silence, but neither of them minded. Then, for lack of anything better do, she went to bed. She realized that the previous few days had been the most exciting she'd ever had. Now her life was shifting back to normal, and the thought of it made her a bit angry.

Acadia had always been kept in the dark about everything. She hadn't even known that there were any other 'people' like her and her mother until she had met Logan. And she was curious about that school that he was talking about. She could only imagine going to a school made for kids like her. She had her circle of friends in her hometown, but wasn't the same. That subject captivated her dreams until dawn the next morning.

After she woke up, Acadia went through her routine as slowly as possible, trying to pass more time. Then she just went and sat on the couch. She stayed sitting on the couch for a while, before she got too bored and restless. "I'm going outside." She called to her mother, who was on the computer at the desk in her room.

"Alright, be careful." Kayla called back absently, and went back to her work.

Acadia stepped out onto the porch, feeling the cool autumn air hit her instantly. She loved this time of year, when the entire forest changed color in unison, and the leaves painted the ground. The air was dry and cool and refreshing on her bare shoulders. The icy wind and the chill didn't bother her at all. She sat on the porch steps for a while, watching the wind blow through the trees, before that bored her as well. She hated living in the middle of nowhere, because there was nothing to do. She could go looking for a bear or something to spar with, but the chances of finding one were slim, and there wasn't any person she would ever fight. She wouldn't be allowed to drive into town and hang out with her friends, and her mother wouldn't allow them to come over.

She sat with her back against the railing of the porch, watching her claws retract and extend at the tips of her fingers, when she smelled something different being carried on the wind. It was blowing towards her, luckily, bringing the scent to her from whatever was causing it. It smelled like it had in the forest the day before, when she had been surrounded by humans and guns. It was something she already hated with a passion.

She stood up cautiously, her acute sight picking up every detail in the scene around her. She tested the air again, watching the road. A cloud of dust preceded a big white truck that was roaring down the road. Her cyan eyes widened in alarm and she ran inside. She felt her claws protrude and her fangs pressing against her lower lip. Her body was preparing to fight.

"Mom!" She yelled. "Mom, we have to get out of here! They're here!" She ran into her mother's room, where Kayla was still seated at her desk.

"Who is?" She stood up quickly rushing over to Acadia. "What are you talking about?"

Acadia's sensitive hearing told her that the truck had slid to a stop outside the front door, and armed men were pouring out of it. "They want to capture us! That crazy General Marx guy!" She said rapidly, almost incoherently, as she pushed her mom towards the door to the garage. Just then, the front door splintered and burst inward under the boot of a heavily muscled soldier. Kayla finally realized what was happening, and pushed Acadia behind her.

Acadia pulled her arm away and lunged at the man, teeth and claws bared. He was caught off guard, and she bit him on his massive shoulder. He roared in pain, and grabbed her by her hair. She let go and he threw her back, but she scratched his cheek violently as she was thrown onto the floor. She was back on her feet in an instant, hurling herself at the next soldier through the door.

This worked for a few minutes, until a few of the mangled and scratched men were behind her. One grabbed her by her hair and her shirt collar and dragged her back away from the door, so the others could come in. A few made their way over to Kayla and detained her as well. General Marx followed the rest of the soldiers in, and he smiled with false charm at Kayla.

"Good morning, ladies." He bowed his head slightly, and Acadia struggled against her restrainers uselessly. "Kayla, it has been quite a while. The Island misses you."

Kayla narrowed her eyes and glanced at Acadia, who was staring at her quizzically. "When will you ever leave us alone?"

"You had plenty of time to yourselves. Plus, I would like to study your… powers of persuasion… a bit more closely in the near future." Then, he turned to Acadia, seeming to notice her for the first time. "And you," he walked over her nonchalantly, "I don't yet have a female feral in my collection. You are definitely a genetic code that needs to be cracked."

Acadia's chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath quick from the surge of adrenaline and instinct in her veins. Blood stained her white tank top, and her bangs clung to the sweat on her forehead. Her arms were held tightly behind her, and one of the soldiers still had a firm grip on her long dark hair.

Marx reached out a hand towards Acadia's face, ignoring the worried glances from his soldiers. As soon as he was close enough, Acadia ignored the pain on her scalp from her pulled hair and twisted her head around. She snapped her teeth at the General's hand, grazing his finger with her fangs. He pulled his arm back quickly and clutched his hand to his chest like it had been scalded with boiling water. Hate and fear contorted his usually smug face.

Acadia didn't hesitate to add insult to injury. "That wiped the smug grin off your ugly flat face," She spat. Then she used all her strength to pull her arms away. They were crossed behind her back, and as she pulled, her claws raked the soft skin of the two soldiers' stomachs. The cuts were deep, and the men doubled over as Acadia jumped away nimbly.

She ran over to her mother, and punched one of the soldiers holding her. Kayla kicked the other, and grabbed Acadia by the shoulders. "You have to run! Go!"

"But what about you? I won't leave you here, so they can take you away."

"I'll be fine, trust me. I've dealt with them before. But you're more important!" She hugged her quickly. Then she said in a lower voice, "Take the back door out. Stay away from roads! They'll try to track you."

"What am I supposed to do after I leave?" Acadia asked, confused.

"Find Logan, tell him what happened! Now go, I'll keep them pre-occupied, but you won't have much time! You're a smart girl, you'll be fine. I love you." Kayla said, and pushed Acadia towards the door in the kitchen.

With one last look at her mother, Acadia ran to the door, closed it gently behind her, and sprinted madly for the trees. She was stronger and faster than any grown human, but she wasn't invisible. Once she was close to the tree line, she dove into the bushes and laid down. Suddenly, a gunshot split the chilled air. Acadia bit her lip as she watched the soldiers, led by Marx, carry her mother's limp body to the truck. There was a thick, bloodstained bandage around her upper arm. _Must be where they shot her,_ Acadia thought sourly.

"Find the girl! Now! I want her on that truck before sundown!" She heard Marx order. She left before she could watch any more.

**Okay, sort of short, but now Acadia is going adventuring. What will happen? Read on to find out! lol I'll post again next week.**


	8. Chapter 8

**BTW, I forgot to add this on the chapter. For those of you who like werewolves, I am writing a story on about them. It's called _The Hunted_. I have the same pen name as I do here on Fanfiction. So go check it out if you think you'd be interested. :)**

_**xPrincetonx**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, sorry for the wait. But when I came back from my birthday my computer broke and I had to send it to get it fixed. :\ But it's all better--for now--and so here's a new chapter! From Princeton with love! :P**

Acadia's internal compass told her that she was headed southeast, the way she needed to go in order to get to New York. She stayed away from the roads, and hiked through the dense wilderness, instead. Every once and a while throughout the day, she would pick up the scent of one of the soldiers, but she would adjust her direction and it would carry her away from the evil men trying to catch her.

After a day of nonstop running, she finally saw the sun setting and decided that it was safe to stop. If they knew what was good for them, they wouldn't hunt her after dark. She could see perfectly well in the dark, and she was confident that if they came after her, she could pick them off one by one.

Fortunately, Acadia's hearing, sight, or smell didn't pick up any other threats, and she found a patch of flat ground to stop at. She made sure that there weren't any animal trails, and then gathered up some dead leaves. She laid them on the damp earth as a shield between her and the cold dirt. Then she tentatively closed her eyes, letting herself drift in and out of sleep until morning.

It was clear to Acadia the next morning that she was not going to be able to walk to New York. She'd have to hitch a ride. As she walked along a game trail outside the third town she had passed, she thought about what she would do. Obviously she could just hitchhike. But what if the person giving her the ride got suspicious? She was only sixteen, though sometimes she was told that she could look nineteen if she dressed up. But sleeping in the woods after fighting a score of soldiers wasn't what could be classified as 'dressing up.'

She decided to take the risk and circle around into the town. With any luck, she'd find a nice trucker on his way east. If luck wasn't on her side, it wouldn't haunt her conscience to carjack. She came across the tavern quickly, and ducked inside hidden by a group of other people. She sat in a corner table, tuning her sensitive ears in to the odds and ends of conversations. If something somebody was saying sounded promising, she would go over and investigate.

For about an hour, she sat there with no luck. The only interesting thing she heard was a man confessing to his best friend that he cheated on his wife. She sighed and leaned one elbow on the table, carving things into the wooden wall next to her with one claw. Until something on the news caught her attention.

There were two TVs in the bar, bolted to the wall where everyone could see them. On one was a wrestling match, where a group of drunken lumberjacks were placing bets against each other, and the other had the news on the screen. A woman in a business suit sat behind a glass desk talking about the latest happenings in the area.

"… And the string of disappearances throughout the area continues. What started with a few missing pets has turned into a possible cereal killing. A few weeks ago, locals began to notice neighborhood pets were going missing. They thought it was wolves or bears, because of a few mangled corpses found in the woods. Now there are thirteen missing person accounts in the towns around the area, and counting."

"Interesting…" Acadia muttered, growing bored with it already. She continued to elaborately carve her initials into the wall, opening her hearing back to the rest of the room.

It focused on a fat bearded man on the far end of the bar. "Yeah, well I oughtta get going. This load's gotta be in Kenora in two days."

Acadia picked her head up. Kenora was near New York, very near. She waited until the man had left the tavern, and then followed him out. He went out to his huge truck, pulling a giant grey wagon. Mustering up her courage—and her fake damsel in distress—she approached the trucker. "Excuse me, sir? Did you say you were going to Kenora?" She asked as meekly as she could.

The large man turned around and eyed her suspiciously. "Yeah. What's it to ya?"

"I-I was just on my way to New York. And my car was stolen. I can't walk there, and I don't have any money…" She let the sentence hang unfinished as the gruff man scratched his beard and thought.

He looked her over; to see if she looked threatening. But she only looked helpless and desperate. "Alright. Hop in, but I'm only going as far as Kenora."

Acadia beamed up at him. "Thank you, sir! You're so kind!" She ran around to the passenger side and climbed into the cab. They drove through the night, and stopped for breakfast in the morning. George, as the big trucker was called, even bought a plate of eggs and bacon at the diner they went to. She couldn't have asked for a better person to hitch a ride with.

As happy as she was with getting there soon, she never let her guard down. Every single person around her could be working for Marx; even George.

By the middle of the next day, they had reached Kenora. After thanking the old man for giving her a ride, she watched him drive away, at a loss of what to do next. She knew which way she had to go, only she didn't know if she would get that lucky twice in one adventure.

Acadia decided to try the same technique and inconspicuously entered the local bar. It was similar to the last one she had been in; tables, TVs, and, of course, a bar full of people. It was busier than she expected, but that only made her chances better. That is, until she smelled something very recognizable. She scanned the bar eagerly, and saw the dark hair and tan skin of someone very familiar.

She resisted the temptation to run up and hug him around his waist. And she was very glad that she did. It smelled like Logan, but there was something different. The hair on this man was darker, and was cut short, but he had the same thick side burns and beard as Logan.

He was wearing a long dark coat. Taking a swig from his beer, he turned around on the stool, as if looking for something. His nostrils flared, and, now that Acadia could see his face, she knew it wasn't him. This was a different person entirely, but his scent reminded her of Logan's, only it was lacking civility.

It was strange. The wild-looking man was stockier than Logan, and looked very different. But, at the same time, they looked and smelled so similar. He glanced around the bar cautiously, until his eyes came to the corner table by the door. His gaze rested on Acadia, and his upper lip lifted in what she guessed was a smirk. But it revealed one sharp fang.

Covering up her surprise, Acadia continued to carve things into the table and pretended that she hadn't the slightest idea that he was staring at her intently. She heard someone get up from the bar, and heavy, booted footsteps on the old wooden floor.

"You're a little young to be in a bar, don't you think?" A deep voice asked her mockingly. She raised her head slowly, retracting the claw that she was using to put her initials in the soft wood of the table.

"And how would you know that?" Acadia inquired, her tone as icy as her now-blue eyes. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion as he sat down across from her. His dark eyes bore into her, and he looked amused. "What do you want?" She directed another question at him, hoping he would answer. She resisted the temptation to curl her lip back and growl at him—she thought that would gain too much attention, even from drunken truckers.

"Just… curious. You seemed… familiar." The man shrugged, never casting his eyes anywhere else but her. "I'm Victor, by the way. Victor Creed." He held his hand out to her over the table, his whole countenance alight with amusement. He continued to smirk, showing only one fang, like his face was stuck that way.

Acadia made no move to return the gesture. She just glanced at his hand and then back up at him. She noticed a flash of anger run through his eyes before he brought his hand back. He hid it quickly, though. He leaned back in his chair, balancing on the two back legs. He was silent for a long time, and looked like he was contemplating something.

"If it's not out of place," Victor said, leaning forward again and putting his hands on the table, "you're eyes are very beautiful. That bright of a blue is rare." He still watched her closely, very much the way that he would watch prey.

But there was a double meaning in his words, and his tone was still joking. It was like he was telling her that he knew why her eyes were bright blue. Acadia did her best to seem apathetic, while her heart pounded against her ribcage and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She knew Victor wasn't human. He didn't smell human—he didn't even _look_ human. The gleam in his eyes was too savage. His whole aura of careless superiority made it clear he thought he was better than everyone else in the bar.

Overall, Acadia didn't like him. She could feel her fangs starting to extend, as well as her nails transforming into claws. But it was an instinctual response that she struggled to get back under control. She hid her hands under the table. She couldn't help but growl before she spoke. "Thanks for the complement. But I know I have pretty eyes, I don't need to hear it from you. Now get out of here." She said angrily, not even bothering to hide her fangs from view. She waited impatiently for his response.

"Ooh, that hurts." He frowned, but his true expression never left his soulless eyes. "It really does." But he stood up from Acadia's table, but left his hand on the wooden surface. She watched as dark claws sprouted from his fingertips and sank into the wood. "I do hope we meet again, Acadia." He dragged his clawed hand through the table as he walked away, retracting them as soon as they disconnected with the wood.

More than disconcerted by that encounter, Acadia resisted the temptation to leave. She didn't want to be anywhere near that man Victor, but she didn't want to walk all the way to New York, either. So she spent the rest of the night eavesdropping on conversations around the bar.

Every once and a while, she could feel Victor's eyes boring into her from his seat across the crowded room.

Finally, she found a man who was driving cross-country to get home. He wasn't as old as her last ride, but he wasn't young. Probably in his early thirties, he was handsome for a human. She overheard him telling the bartender about how he was on his way back from visiting his family, and was going to pass New York. _Good enough,_ Acadia thought. She got up from her seat and stretched; she had been sitting very still for the last two hours, and her muscles were tight. She hurried outside to wait for the man, who was also on his way out the door.

She leaned against the old railing surrounding the small porch in front of the bar, practicing in her mind what she would say and how she would say it. Finally, she heard footsteps coming towards the door. She did her best to look lost and upset.

But instead of the smell of cigars that had been on the young man, the scent of earth and musk drifted to her nostrils through the partially open door instead. She watched as Victor stepped outside, his heavy boots loud on the creaking boards groaning under his weight. He glanced at her quickly, knowingly even. He gave her a small nod and continued down the steps and into the parking lot. But instead of getting into a car, she just heard his boots on the cement, getting fainter and fainter. She didn't turn around to see where he was going, because her ride was on his way out.

She looked at him pleadingly and prepared to ask him about a ride. "Yes, I can give you a ride. But not far." He said curtly, holding up his hand to keep her from saying anything. "Save the sob story for someone who cares."

Acadia shut her now gaping mouth, taken aback by the man's rudeness. But she didn't complain as they walked to his car. They got in, and the man started the engine and cranked the heat. He was wearing a heavy jacket and thick jeans, but he rubbed his pale hands together in front of one of the vents until the air in the car was thick and stuffy. Then he reached for the glove compartment and pulled out a cigar. He lit it, took a long drag, and pulled away from the bar.

Acadia felt fine with the cold, wearing only a white wife's beater, a sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and worn sneakers. She was starting to sweat with the hot air blasting her in the face, mixed with the remarkably strong smoke, so she turned the vents on her side of the car off and pulled her sweatshirt over her head.

"You aren't cold?" The man asked incredulously, looking at her dirty sleeveless shirt. She shook her head. "Damn. Canadians are nuts." He muttered, thinking she wouldn't hear. The thing was, he had no idea that she could hear a pen drop on the other side of a concrete wall. She scowled, and leaned against the door. _This is going to be a long ride, _she thought coldly.

**And Victor enters the story!! Ha, what do you think? And those of you who don't like the guy she's hitching a ride with, you'll like the next part. :P I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday, and I'll have the next chapter up as soon as possible. But I think I'm going to devote a little time to my Eragon story; I owe it that much.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I simply couldn't wait to upload the next chapter! So here it is! :P And thank you to all my readers! You all are great, I'm so glad you like my writing.**

Just as they pulled out onto the road, a dark shape zoomed down towards them, almost hitting them. The man driving them, whom she now noticed had a nametag labeled Ricky resting on his dashboard, swerved and almost lost control of his car. The truck that almost smashed into them swerved at the last minute as well, but didn't stop to see if they were all right.

"Jackass," Ricky mumbled, glaring at the dark blue truck that was now in front of them.

Victor continued from the parking lot and into the woods surrounding it. After climbing a slight rise and descending on the other side of it, he could no longer see the lights from civilization. He fished around in his pockets for his cell phone and hurriedly flipped it open and dialed a sequence of numbers. He impatiently listened to the ringing, until someone picked up the other line. "Hello?" The man on the other line asked into the phone snidely.

"Yeah, it's me." Victor said just as coldly.

"Ah, Victor, good to hear from you. I take you found her, then?" The other man asked hopefully.

A sadistic smile spread across Victor's face. "That I did, she's on her way to New York. Hitched a ride with a human. What do you want me to do?"

"Follow her, and make sure you keep me updated as to her whereabouts. I won't let her escape again." The other man commanded. "But keep your distance. She's a vile little thing, with skills that rival even yours. She managed to bite me on the hand."

"Alright. You won't be disappointed. I'm not one of your human soldiers." Victor answered, ignoring the direct insult to his abilities and his kind. But he was also surprised that one so young could get even that close to killing the bastard general. He hung up, and took off at a sprint through the forest.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Logan watched the sun set in the rearview mirror of "his" navy truck, but continued to drive through the town of Kenora. It was a small town, and he had almost pulled into the parking lot of the inn. But he had to keep driving, and get to New York. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and ignored the approaching darkness.

He found himself becoming lost in thought, and was vaguely aware that he wasn't concentrating on driving. And because of it, he didn't see the car that pulled out in front of him. He noticed at the last minute, as both he and the other driver swerved away from each other. "Damn it," Logan cursed, gripping the steering wheel tightly and trying to regain control. He kept going though, seeing that the other car was moving down the road behind him.

He should've stopped after that incident, but he didn't. He had to get to Westchester soon, so he could tell Xavier about General Marx and warn him about the new drug or any possible attacks. He knew it would be important, and they couldn't have a conversation like that over the phone, when you couldn't know who was listening in.

But more importantly to _him_, he wanted to get there and get back. Logan didn't feel comfortable leaving Kayla, or Acadia, knowing that someone was looking for them. He wanted to be there with Kayla, trying to remember. But he was just using that as an excuse. He normally didn't have any feeling besides apathy for anyone after knowing them for barely a few days, but this was different. Apparently, he had known her for much longer than that. It made him wonder what he was really missing out on without his memories.

He continued to drive, keeping the radio turned up to keep him awake. The city slicker in the sedan was still behind him, the one that pulled out in front of him. Every time he checked his rearview mirror, he thought he saw Acadia in the passenger seat. Shrugging it off as a side-effect of his fatigue, he stopped looking back. A few hours later, he saw them stop and turn onto a side road.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"God, I'm tired." Ricky said irritably, rubbing his eyes. "We're stopping at the first place I see."

Acadia shrugged. She was somewhat tired. She had been running on adrenaline and fear for the last two days, with only one meal and a few hours of sleep. But she wasn't tired, and her instincts kept telling her to stay awake and on guard. There was a constant aura of tension around her, and she was paranoid that everyone knew exactly where she was. _I'm going crazy_, her rational mind thought.

They saw a sign that marked a small rest stop a few miles ahead, and Ricky hastily pulled his car into the shabby motel lot. Acadia grabbed her jacket and jumped out of the car. Ricky just stared at her with a strange expression, but then realized he didn't care enough and got out of the car himself.

Before Ricky could notice, Acadia sniffed the air. It had rained during the car ride, and the smell of water and damp trees dulled her heightened senses. She didn't smell the acrid stench of those government men who had attacked her twice, but she did smell something else. It blended into the dense scent of the soggy forest, and was barely distinct enough for any notice at all. But with her senses on high alert, she picked up the odor of musk and earth. That man Victor was close. She saw Ricky walking towards the motel's office and hurried after him.

The motel was a long, single-story building with a row of chipped doors and an office in the center. It had ten rooms, five on each side, and none bigger than the rest. Ricky paid for one night, and they walked down the sidewalk to the very end of the eastern side of the building. He unlocked the door and tried to open it. When it didn't budge, he jiggled the handle and threw his very slight weight into it. It burst open, paint chips falling onto the floor.

Their room had a single bed, a couple of chairs grouped around a small foldable table, an ugly red carpet, and a small bathroom. "I'll sleep on the floor," Ricky mumbled grudgingly, as if it pained him greatly to be polite.

"No, you go ahead and sleep on the bed; it's the least I can do to repay your… kindness." Acadia insisted, hoping he wouldn't catch the pause. But he only looked grateful, and threw his small suitcase onto the bed. Acadia rolled her eyes, and sat down on one of the rickety chairs. She watched him grab a few things out of his bag and skulk to the bathroom.

While Ricky was out of the room, Acadia sat and pondered her situation. On the one hand, it wasn't hard for her to get rides. On the other, she had the vague idea that Victor was after her, along with that Steven Marx character. Thinking about the general made her think about her mother, and about the awful things that they must be doing to her. It almost brought tears to her eyes, but Ricky opened the bathroom door and stepped out in a cloud of hot steam from the shower.

He was wearing only a pair pajama pants, and holding his old clothes under his arm. He glanced at her, and put his clothes down on the bed. His dark hair was still wet, and stuck to his neck and forehead. As much as she disliked him, Acadia couldn't help but admit he was beautiful. His only problem was his personality.

As if reading her thoughts, Ricky ran his fingers through his wet hair and sauntered over to her. He leaned one hand on the table and bent down so that they were eye to eye. He brought his face closer to hers, and stayed there for a moment before saying, "You know, I usually don't do nice things for people."

"You don't say…" Acadia said, trying to keep the distaste from her voice. She continued to act nonchalant, but she could sense his desire plainly.

"I do say." Ricky continued. "But I saw you, and I thought, 'well I can't leave _her_ here, now can I?' So I didn't."

Feeling pinned back, Acadia stood up. Ricky allowed her to, but still pressed in on her. She backed away from him until she felt the wall against her. Ricky chuckled, and said, "But I do feel a little under-appreciated. It would be nice if _somebody_ would recognize my good deed." He picked up a dark lock of Acadia's hair from her shoulder, and twirled the curl around his fingers. His hand trailed onto her shoulder, down her arm, and stopped at her wrist. He brought his other hand out and grabbed her other wrist, and then pinned them both behind her.

Acadia could feel her anger begin to mix with adrenaline in her blood making her skin heat up. She narrowed her eyes at him. He ignored it, and didn't even notice that they weren't even dark brown anymore. He leaned his head in towards her, and pecked her on the cheek. Her heartbeat sped up and intensified, until her heart was rapidly pounding into her sternum. Her breath sped up.

"It's strange," Ricky began as he nuzzled into her neck, "you look like you slept in the woods, but you still smell so sweet. Like wildflowers…" He trailed off and moved back up to her lips, kissing her full on.

That's about the time she couldn't stand it anymore. If there was one thing Acadia couldn't stand, it was not feeling in control, feeling powerless. And this man had her pinned against a wall. And she had let it happen. Twisting her hands around, she broke his grip on her wrists and grabbed his. Her claws were out, and gleaming angrily. She pushed him back. He was so astonished, he didn't even try to come back at her immediately.

Realizing that she had just pushed him, Ricky glared at her and prepared to strike her across the face. But Acadia growled under breath and swiped downward across his bare chest with one clawed hand. At first, it didn't look like she had done anything. But then the blood began to pour out of five deep, narrow gashes that reached from shoulder to hip. Ricky looked down, and felt the pain after he saw his ribs without skin on them.

With a pain-filled, terrified scream, he gripped his chest. But Acadia was long past mercy, and had anger boiling in her blood. She lunged at him and bit his shoulder, sinking in her fangs. He screamed again, grabbing a handful of her hair with a blood-soaked hand and trying to pull her away. She barely seemed to notice, though, and just pushed her sharp, deadly teeth further into his soft flesh. When she could no longer take the metallic taste of his blood, she pulled away from him, only to furiously strike at him with her claws repeatedly.

She stepped back from his body, which was now slumped halfway off the bed. The floor and comforter were stained with blood. Acadia stood still for a moment, just breathing, trying to calm down. She usually wouldn't attack people like that, but between her mom being kidnapped, being hunted like an animal, and someone attempting to rape her, she just snapped. She retracted her claws and fangs, but her eyes were still bright from the excitement.

Her brain stayed shut off for a moment, until she realized that she had to jump into action. Someone had to have heard him screaming. They will come to investigate; if not now, then in the morning. She ran over to his bag. She got out his wallet, his car keys, and searched his suitcase. He had a pair of sweat pants, a couple undershirts and tee shirts, and some boxers along with jeans and other nicer clothes. She took the sweats and the undershirts and ran out the door. She jumped into the driver's seat of his car as the magnitude of shock of what she'd just done overcame her.

Acadia peeled out of the parking lot as fast as she could manage, grief-stricken tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She rolled down the window and let the humid air into the car. It whipped her hair around her face and swirled throughout the car. She felt slightly lightheaded; that was the first time she'd ever killed someone without _very_ good reason. It was the first time she'd lost control like that. _Say what you want about being human; you're an animal._ Logan's words echoed around her mind.

**And she snaps! What do you guys think? The more reviews, the better I write! :P**


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay, little Christmas present for my readers. Unless they don't celebrate Christmas... Then it's just a present. Or for their holiday. Anywho, I have been SOOO much lately and figured I could post another chapter. :) Enjoy**

Victor kept the car in sight as he sprinted through the trees. A few times, he lost sight and cursed himself. But then it would come back into view. He saw them slow down and turn into a motel parking lot. He decided to keep a good distance, but he could still hear them. The rain muffled the scent of the human and Acadia, but he had trained himself enough to be able to keep track of it. The rain had wet his short hair, and even soaked through his long coat. If he were affected by the cold dampness of his clothes, he would probably be turning blue.

He leaned against a tree and inspected his sharp nails absentmindedly, waiting for something to happen. And something did. He heard a tortured scream, and the smell of fresh blood overpowered everything else. He walked to the edge of the light cast from the motel. The stench grew stronger, and so did the terrified yells. Victor watched as a distraught Acadia burst out the door of their room, holding the keys and wallet of that human she was with. _Damn_, he thought, a detached part of himself pleased with how things were turning out. _Maybe she isn't so bad_. But her expression told him that she wasn't proud of herself, as he would have been. He watched her speed off in the car, and jumped into action to follow.

For the first half hour of driving, Acadia had trouble controlling the car. She had driven before, but not at night and not at seventy miles per hour. But through experimenting with different switches and buttons in Ricky's high-tech little car, she got the lights and windshield wipers to work. She kept driving until the first light of dawn, and then she pulled off onto a small side road and parked. _It's probably better to travel at night_, she thought, glancing nervously out of the windows. If a state trooper or someone caught her, she would be in even more trouble. Or worse, she'd murder again.

Acadia turned the radio on, and surfed through the channels for a local news station. "… The police won't give us any more information on the Motel Murder, except for that it looked the culprit had a large dog. Richard Dennison was found this morning after reports of screams from his room. His body was marred nearly beyond recognition—" She shut it off quickly, running her fingers through her tangled hair. She rolled her window halfway down so she could smell the outside air and shut off the car. Leaning the seat back, she let her eyelids fall closed and dozed off.

Logan stepped into the cage. This tavern hosted fights, and it brought back images of when he got kicked out of a bar because he was stupid enough to show his claws. But he wasn't going to let it happen again. He set his angry glare on the halfwit across the arena. The muscular man was thickly built, and Logan had watched the previous fights. He was the champion. So far, at least.

The bartender looked at Logan pitifully, and walked over to him holding a small glass. He handed it to him through the chicken wire and said, "It's to take the edge off when he knocks your lights out." Logan scoffed, but took it anyway.

"Knock this bastard out, Jake!" Logan heard someone shout from the small crowd that was gathering. 'Jake' nodded dutifully and saluted jokingly. He cackled and took a sip from his own drink.

Logan leaned against one of the wooden posts that was holding up the fighting cage. He was deadly calm, waiting for the bell to ring. His opponent was staring at him with a gap-toothed grin. Just then, a loud bell echoed through the tavern. Jake started to move toward the center, and Logan met him. His face was expressionless, and his dark eyes shone mercilessly.

Jake was the one to throw the first punch. It was a wide left hook that seemed to come at Logan in slow motion. He dodged it easily, delivering an Adamantium fist into Jake's stomach. He staggered backwards, winded. Logan advanced on him and punched him in the nose. He flew back, hitting the ground loudly. He struggled onto his hands and knees, but Logan was on a role. Before he could stop himself, he booted Jake in the stomach.

The assembled crowd went wild, but not all for Logan. There were many angry shouts and hollers at Logan he didn't appreciate much. But some people were cheering for him. Logan smirked and exited the ring, getting pushed out of the way by Jake's friends who were rushing to help him up. But he ignored his crippled opponent and sauntered to the bar to collect his winnings. The bartender grudgingly handed him a wad of bills and a beer. "Thanks," He mumbled, settling himself at the bar to enjoy his new title. _I could do this for a living,_ he mused.

It was late, and the bar was emptying. Only a few patrons were still there when the bartender began to clean tables and put up chairs. The fighting cage was locked up. The TVs over the bar were on low volume, and just background, so they were about to be turned off. But the news came on, and Logan glanced up. There was a crime scene on the screen, with a reporter speaking into a microphone.

"Hold on," Logan put up a hand to stop the bartender as he reached up to turn it off. He looked at Logan, shrugged, and walked away to finish his chores. Logan focused his attention to the old television. The reporter was standing front of a shabby motel, surrounded by crime scene tape. The dark landscape was painted with bright red and blue and yellow lights from the cop cars. He watched as they showed a body covered in a white sheet being carried out of one of the rooms. Logan caught the name 'Richard Dennison,' and that he was driving a small, dark sedan that was nowhere to be seen.

Logan's mind immediately told him that the small car that cut him off earlier that night was the same one, but he couldn't be sure. Although, there weren't many small cars; most people had trucks. And from what he heard about the situation, he was almost positive that it wasn't a dog and human that did that damage. But he ignored it, and decided that it wasn't his problem. Bidding goodbye to the remaining bodies in the tavern, he left to find a place to spend the night.

He found a small place with a spare room. With his newfound money, he didn't have to worry about staying the night. It was the first shower and good night's sleep he'd had in a few days. And living with Kayla for even that short amount of time, he had been spoiled. Logan grimaced at the thought; he had let his guard down when he was there. But now that he was on his own again, the self-reliant, robust side of him took over once more. He scared people with mere looks.

And as much as he wanted to get to the bottom of the strange murder, he had no time to go backwards. Maybe he could look into it on his way back. Morning came, and he was awoken by the soft morning light filtering through the crevice between the curtains. It didn't take much for him to be fully awake and leaving. He got back into his borrowed truck—thankfully no one had bothered to look for it yet—and continued on his way to New York.

The air was still moist from the rain the previous night, but the dampness and wet, earthen smell was gone, so Logan could sense everything normally. He rolled the windows down and hung an arm out in the cold wind.

He had only been driving for a few minutes when a strange scent was carried into the cab of the truck. He eased his foot away from the gas pedal and sniffed the air. It was familiar, but still not something he was used to. He slowed down to follow it, and it led him off of the main highway, onto a dirt side road. After a while driving down the bumpy road, the scent got stronger. A small car came into view. Logan instantly knew whose car it was. He brought the truck to a stop, flung the door open, and jumped out. He tried to sneak up on whomever was in the car, but, in a whirl of movement, the door was open and somebody had jumped out.

Without thinking, Logan pounced forward, a deep growl ripping through his chest. His opponent was slightly built compared to him and he easily pinned them to the dirt. But as he glared down at his captive, he jaw dropped. He quickly tried to mask his surprise as Acadia bared her fangs at him. But she seemed to realize it, too, and calmed down.

Logan leapt away from her, and she got to her feet. "Well… You're the last person I would expect to see." He said, not even trying to hide his surprise. Acadia stared at him for moment, to make sure Logan was really there, and then ran forward. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his broad chest. She didn't even notice—or care—that silent tears began to fall from her eyes.

As much as he wasn't used to hugs, he restrained the urge to push her away. When she started crying, he rubbed her back gently. He wasn't used to doing something like this and felt very awkward, but swallowed the feeling and waited for Acadia to calm down.

After what seemed like hours to Logan, the young feral's breathing finally evened out and she pushed away from him. He offered her a halfhearted smile, which made her laugh.

"Now that you've calmed down, tell me why you're all the way here." Logan said, motioning for her to get in the truck.

"Looking for you. Why else?" Acadia answered cynically. "I know that you're hell bent on getting to New York, but we need to go back. The day after you left, that Steven Marx guy came and attacked us. He was trying to get me, but I escaped—obviously—and they took my mom instead."

"They have Kayla?" Logan said in disbelief. This was exactly what he was afraid of. Acadia nodded. "Then we _really_ have to get to New York. Xavier can help us. I don't even know where they took her."

By that time, they had reached the main road and the engine roared to life as Logan slammed his foot on the pedal. They still had a full day of driving ahead before they reached Westchester. Most of the ride was in silence, because Acadia was asleep. She hadn't slept right since she'd left her home, and wasn't used to being on the run like Logan was.

But as the sun was on its descent through the sky behind them, she was awake and staring out the window. Images and memories of the last few days seemed from so long ago. Then she thought about when she was looking for a ride at that small bar the night before, when the stranger feral Victor had talked to her. She felt that it was important, and almost jumped up from her seat. "Logan!"

Logan raised an eyebrow incredulously as her, and asked, "Yes?"

"Last night, this guy came up to me. His name was Victor, and I think he was a feral, too." She looked at him, hoping that it was actually important.

She felt confident that it was when Logan's whole body tensed and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. "What did he do?" He asked, keeping his voice controlled.

"Nothing, really, but talk to me. I was looking to catch a ride and snuck into a bar to see if I could find anyone. He came and sat with me for a few minutes. He knew my name, and I didn't even tell him." She looked down at her hands, and then back up at Logan. She could tell that he was really struggling to not to hit something.

"Yeah, I know him. He worked for Stryker. I haven't heard anything about him in a long time," Logan explained. "He knew your name, you said?"

Acadia nodded, swallowing hard. "Well, that must mean that he's been hired to look for you." Logan said brusquely. The way he said it made Acadia shiver, and not too many things scared her.

Before either of them could say anymore, they were stopped in front of a wide, polished gate. Behind it was an expansive lawn with a mansion in the distance. Through the dark outside, Acadia could see courts and fields and ponds. It was a beautiful estate. "Woah…" She said, leaning forward to peer out the windshield. "Where are we?"

Logan chuckled as the gates opened for them and they drove through slowly. "Welcome to Xavier Institute for Higher Learning." He received a confused glance from her, and said, "Mutant School."

Acadia smirked and gazed out the window again, taking in the dark scenery. They traveled up the gravel driveway all the way to magnificent entrance of the mansion. The columned archway was lined with hedges. Acadia cautiously opened the door and stepped onto the ground, stretching out her legs after an entire day sitting in the truck. Logan shut off the engine and hopped out himself, walking around to the door where Acadia was waiting. She glanced at him, and he nodded. She went up to the colossal door and knocked a few times.

She heard a few locks turn, and somebody swung the door open, revealing the entrance hall. The scent of polished wood and some sort of fresh meal wafted out to her. The smell of the food made her stomach growl.

For the first time, Acadia noticed the woman who had answered the door. She had bright white hair in a short pixie cut and a contrasting dark complexion. She smiled, flashing white teeth, and said, "Logan, you're back."

Logan, who was now standing in front of Acadia, nodded to her. "I'm sure the professor knows we're here. We need to talk to him."

As soon as Logan had said 'we,' the woman glanced behind him and noticed Acadia for the first time. She looked from her to Logan, and asked, "Who's this?"

Logan put a hand on Acadia's shoulder and steered her into the mansion. She looked around wildly at the high-ceilinged room. There were a couple staircases, and a long hallway with doors and other hallways branching off of it. "This is Acadia." Logan said, in a tone that said 'don't ask questions.'

"Oh, well the rest of the students are having dinner, if she would like to join them." The woman told Logan. Acadia's jaw tensed indignantly; she was addressing the question to Logan, and not her, like she had no say in what she was going to do.

Logan looked down at Acadia, and she nodded. He pushed her toward the bright-haired lady and said, "Sure, she can go." Acadia turned back to look at him, concerned. "Go ahead," he told her, "I'll talk to the professor and then I'll find you." She nodded.

"He's probably in his office," The woman told him, before Logan stalked down the pristine hallway. Then she put her arm around Acadia's shoulders and guided her to one of the doors. "I'm Storm, by the way. What's your name?"

"Acadia," she answered quietly, suddenly nervous.

"That's a pretty name. Well, Acadia, the rest of the students have already started eating, but let's see if we can't find you a place." She took her arm away from Acadia's shoulders and opened the door. Acadia's stomach did a flip as she followed Storm into the spacious room, crowded with teenagers eating and talking. Almost every face turned toward them. Acadia couldn't imagine what she looked like; having been catching sleep and hitching rides any way she could, she never really bothered to stop and check how her hair looked.

She was relieved when a girl got up from her table and walked over to them. She had a streak of grey in her hair in the very front, and she wore dark green gloves. But other than that, she wore jeans and a sweatshirt. She smiled at Storm and Acadia. Storm greeted her, "Rogue, this is Acadia. Will you take her to sit with you and get her something to eat?"

Rogue nodded happily, and held out her hand to Acadia. "Hi," she said. Acadia shook hands with Rogue tentatively, and followed her to a table near the corner of the room. "I'm Rogue. Acadia, right?" Acadia nodded. "That's such a cool name." When they sat down, Rogue introduced her to the rest of the table, and left for the kitchen that connected with the large dining room. She came back with a large plate of food and set it in front of Acadia.

"You looked hungry," Rogue said, taking her seat once more, "so I got a little extra food for you."

"Thank you," Acadia said gratefully, and struggled to keep herself from stuffing her face savagely. She ate and listened to the conversation at the table. There was the girl Rogue, and she had introduced Kitty (Shadowcat), Bobby (Iceman), Piotr (Colossus), and a few others. Acadia was abnormally quiet, and her actions even surprised her. But she wasn't in the mood to try and make new friends. She wasn't even going to be staying that long.

After she had finished eating, she sat rigidly on the edge of her seat, waiting for Logan to come back and get her. Sadly, he didn't. The rest of the students began to file out of the dining hall and headed for the staircases. Acadia walked out with Rogue, aimlessly following the crowd until something better came along. "You can bunk with me if you want," Rogue said as they passed through the doors, "I don't have a roommate."

Storm materialized next to them and declined the offer before Acadia could. "That's very kind of you, Rogue, but I've already made arrangements for her." Acadia glanced at Rogue and shrugged—who smiled at her and mimicked the gesture—and followed Storm down the long hallway. "The professor wants to meet you, and then you may go to your room. I've already put fresh clothes there for you."

"Okay, thanks." Acadia replied, thankful to be away from the crowd of other teenagers. They reached a set of dark wood double doors, and Storm knocked and they waited to be let in. The knob turned and the door swung back, revealing Logan in a lavish, spacious office. Acadia still wasn't used to the grandeur of the place.

Logan only nodded to them and moved so they could come through the doorway. "Thank you, Storm. You may go now." Said the man sitting at the wide desk in the middle of the office. Storm acknowledged him and left, leaving Acadia with Logan and the professor. She sat in one of the arm chairs in front of the desk and examined the professor.

Whatever she had been expecting Professor Xavier to be like, the man sitting before her wasn't it. He was wearing a nice suit, and had pale skin and a bald head. She was also almost sure that he was sitting in a wheelchair. But despite that, he wore a kind expression, and his eyes revealed his enigmatic wisdom. She cast a quick glance at Logan, who was sitting in a chair identical to hers. She could tell by his body language he had the upmost respect for this man, which was saying a lot to have come from him.

_So I finally get to meet you in person,_ a deep, slightly accented voice spoke softly in her mind. Acadia jolted and looked around. Her eyes came back to rest on the professor, who was smiling at her now. In the same voice that she had heard in her head, he said, "Acadia, Logan has told me about the situation with your mother, and this new replacement of Stryker. I can help you get her back. Tomorrow I can locate her, and I will send a team to bring her here."

Relief washed over Acadia, and she couldn't help but grin slightly. That was why she was here, wasn't it? But there was something missing from this man's plan. "I want to go."

"No." Logan said crossly. He saw her open her mouth to protest, and repeated himself.

"I'm sure you do," Xavier added in a much more sympathetic tone, "but there is still too much we don't know. Logan will be going, accompanied by a few others. But they will have a lot to worry about without watching you." He said it kindly, but that didn't keep Acadia from fuming with anger.

"I can protect myself just fine." She said, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly. Her eyes turned blue, and the professor stared at her, intrigued. "I'm going with them."

"No," the professor said, his voice growing stern, "you won't. You'll stay here, with the other students. They'll be just fine."

"Acadia." It was Logan's voice this time. She was starting to get quite annoyed, and he could see her clenching and unclenching his fists. "Stay here. We'll take care of it." The command was evident. His hard, unforgiving expression made her back down.

"Fine." She agreed reluctantly. Both herself and Logan looked back at the professor. He was glancing between them with an amused glint in his eyes. "What?" She asked him angrily, looking away.

"Nothing," he muttered, crossing his hands on his desk.

Logan narrowed his eyes in confusion, but moved on and asked, "Do you know where she is?"

"Not yet, but I can find out. I'll send for you as soon as I do. Until then, though, good night." Xavier said, dismissing them. Logan and Acadia stood up from their seats and headed for the door.

Acadia followed Logan down the hallway and up one of the staircases. The landing stretched out into another hall littered with doors and branches to other parts of the house. "Holy crap, does it ever end?" Acadia mumbled, seeing everything perfectly fine in the darkness.

She heard Logan chuckle, and then he stopped abruptly, pointing to a door on his right. "I think this is your room." He opened the door and held it so she could step inside. It was plain, with a good-sized bed, an armoire, and a bathroom. There was a stack of folded clothes on the bed. "Night, kid." Logan said, and began to leave.

"Why can't I go with you?" Acadia asked. "It's my mom, I don't see why not."

"Oh, not this again." Logan rolled his eyes and turned out. "Listen, I know you want to come, but you can't. Sorry. That's the way it goes. We can't watch our backs, watch yours, and look for Kayla." Acadia opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. "Yes, we would need to watch your back. The first time I saw you, you would've been dead if I hadn't saved your ass. And when we were surrounded in the forest, you got pushed back onto the road. I can only save one person at a time." Without his knowing, Logan's voice had risen in volume and anger. He sounded cold, like he was out to make her hurt. If Acadia wasn't so livid, she would have been hurt.

Before she could lunge at him, though, he lowered his voice and said, "I didn't mean that. No, I did, and it's true, but I wasn't trying to be mean." He said it as sincerely as he could manage. As much as he tried to ignore it, he knew he would regret being mean to Acadia. And as much as he tried to deny it, he cared for her. Definitely not the way he cared for Kayla, but still.

A door opening down the hall made them both forget about their anger. Logan straightened up and glared down the hallway. His eyes widened slightly, but then returned to normal. Acadia heard light, rapid footsteps on the wood floor, and then a flurry of movement as Logan was engulfed in a fierce hug. Acadia was surprised to see the one giving it was Rogue. Her hair was disheveled from sleep and she was in her night clothes.

"Logan! You came back! You said you wouldn't!" Rogue squealed excitedly, not even attempting to keep her voice down. Other doors in the dorm hall began to crack open, casting slivers of yellow light across the floor.

Acadia raised one eyebrow at the scene, but shrugged. "Good night, Logan."

"Yeah," He replied, not looking at her. He was still looking very disconcertedly at the girl wrapped around his waist. Acadia had to keep herself from laughing until she had her door closed. She walked over to the bed and spread the clothes out. There was a pair of shorts, a pair of jeans, and sweatpants, as well as a couple plain tee shirts and a tank top, along with some new underwear.

She inspected the bathroom. It had a pristine counter with a large sink, of course a toilet, and a spacious shower. Acadia felt like she was staying in a luxury hotel room, and grinned at the thought. Taking advantage of it, she took a long shower, and outfitted herself with the tank top and sweatpants that had been set out for her. The shirt had a small emblem on it in the center, and the sweatpants had the same one where a pocket should be. It was a silver X in a circle.

Being able to relax and not be on edge for the first time in a while allowed her mind to move on from the injustice of being stuck here while she should be helping to fight. But it returned to the front of her mind as she was trying to fall asleep, and she laid awake trying to think of a way of convincing them to bring her with them. She could always just stow away. Then by the time they knew about her it would be too late to turn back.

**I know, kind of a shitty ending for a chapter, but it would be too long if I didn't stop here. So Happy Holidays everybody! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hellllooooo fellow X-Men lovers! Happy New Year! And here's the last update 2009! Enjoy! :)**

"Rogue?" Logan said, surprised. He noticed Acadia leaving, but couldn't say anymore as Rogue delved into a long story about what had happened since he'd left. He stood as much of it as he could, before Cyclops finally came rushing down the hall and beckoned for Logan to follow him. "What's up, One-Eye?" Logan asked cynically as he followed Scott to the elevator and they rode it down to the sublevels.

Scott rolled his eyes, though he knew no one would ever see. "We have to go. Professor is going to explain." The rest of the time spent with him was in silence. Logan rocked back on his heels. When the elevator landed, they walked briskly down the blindingly neat and empty hallway. "Suit up," Cyclops told him, throwing him a dark uni-suit.

"You can't be serious. Do I have to wear one?" Logan raised one eyebrow incredulously.

"Yes. You ask every time and the answer never changes. Hurry." Scott said curtly, pulling his own X-Men suit on.

"I could really go for a cigar right about now…" Logan mumbled under his breath as he shrugged his coat off and threw his clothes into one of the cabinets. He pulled the tight-fitting uniform on, pulling at the collar and re-adjusting it constantly. "Damn suit couldn't be comfortable or anything," he said sarcastically.

Scott was leading him to the jet's hangar, he realized after they turned a corner and walked straight down the expansive hallway. The doors slid open as they approached and the silver jet came into view. There was a low hum emanating throughout the echoing hangar, coming from the huge plane. Xavier was in his wheelchair in front of them. "Good, you two got here quickly. Storm is waiting for you in the jet."

"What the hell is going on?" Logan asked irritably. It was aggravating being told to suit up for a mission and not knowing what to expect.

"Scott didn't tell you? He was supposed to." The professor said, casting a scornful glance at Cyclops. "I've located the girl's mother. She's being held at a new base, underground outside Park City. Acadia was still going to try and go with you, so to avoid problems I've moved this mission much sooner: right now. You'll get there tomorrow morning and spend the day figuring out this new underground base. Then tomorrow night you can go in and try to rescue Kayla. Don't spend too much time there, though." He wheeled himself out of the path to the jet. "Go, I'm holding you back with my useless talking."

They nodded and bid the professor goodbye, and then climbed aboard the sleek aircraft. Storm was sitting at the controls, tapping buttons and reading screens. She didn't look up when Logan and Scott showed up, only closed the hatch and sent more power to the engine. Logan could hear the loud rumble of the basketball court splitting so the jet could rise into the night sky. He and Cyclops hurried to their seats and strapped themselves in as the plane shot off to the west.

Acadia woke up with a start. She sat up quickly, her tired mind getting dizzy from the sudden movement. Her breathing sped up when she didn't immediately recognize the sights and smells of where she was. But as she woke up, she realized that she was in the mansion. She glanced around the room and realized she was alone, and she didn't hear anyone in the hall.

She was already too awake to try and go back to sleep, so she stretched and hopped out of bed. Thick curtains were drawn across the room's only window to the outside, and she was getting an anxious, disconcerting sense of vertigo being so boxed in. she hurried over to the window and shoved the curtains back. Bright morning sunlight blinded her, and she shielded her eyes to let them adjust.

Her window overlooked the spacious lawn, with a basketball court and pond directly after a large patio below her window. Students were sitting at the benches and tables, some were running around the basketball court, and a few were even situated on blankets on the green field. It looked so peaceful and optimistic, she thought it wasn't real for a moment.

_Well… what do I do now?_ She asked herself, changing into the jeans and shirt that Storm had given her. She tied her dark hair back in a braid and tucked her long bangs behind her ear so she could see her eyes. That was always something that her mother had complained about: not being able to see Acadia's eyes because of her side bangs. She thought about her for a moment and bit her lip. She had to save her.

When she was ready, she left the room and wandered down the hall. She wasn't sure how to find her way around the school or dorms, but she could figure it out. She reached the end of the polished hallway and found herself on the landing of a wide staircase. From what she could see of the lower floor, it was empty. She made her way cautiously down the staircase; the last thing she wanted was to be caught by a teacher and stuck in a classroom full of people she didn't know.

She found herself in the entrance hall she had entered the night before. The front doors were propped open, letting the chilly fresh air enter the house. There were two hallways branching off on either side of where she was, along with the entrance hall in front of her. After a second of indecision, she turned left and wandered down the western branch of the house.

It was identical to the rest of the hallways she had been in, only about halfway down there was a strange cylindrical bulge in the right side of the wall. Noticing a cleverly disguised button next to it, she pressed it and a door slid sideways. Behind it was a pristinely white, cylindrical elevator. Her adventurous curiosity getting the best of her, she glanced around and stepped inside.

There was only one button, and it had a silver X on it. She noticed that it was the same silver X on her shirt. She pressed it and the door slid shut on its track without a sound. The elevator shot down rapidly, almost making Acadia lose her balance. The door glided open once more, revealing a plain white background. If it weren't for the shadows cast by the corners and walls, Acadia would've thought that she was in a white void.

She stepped out warily, looking up and down yet another hall. The white panels of the floor were cool against her bare feet. Every once and a while on the walls there would be large double doors, made of silver Xs. "What the hell is with all the Xs?" She whispered, roaming the underground hall. Just then, one of them slid open and a red-haired woman in a lab coat stepped out. She was looking at her clipboard, and hadn't seen Acadia yet. She stealthily dove behind an indent in the wall, her heart pounding against her ribs. But the woman continued walking, heels clicking against the panels of the floor.

When she walked into another room, Acadia let out a pent-up breath and relaxed. Glancing up and down the long hallway again, she crept along looking for something interesting. She found a few glass cases built into the wall, along with some shelves with clothes. Her eyes lit up and she searched through the clothes for something more comfortable than tight jeans. They were her size, but she couldn't move. She found a pair of guy's jeans, got the next size up, and changed into them. She left her old ones on the bench in front of the shelves and buttoned her new pants. They were much more comfortable, and very baggy. But the waistband was far too big, and they constantly were falling down. She searched in vain for a belt, and then finally noticed what was in the glass cases.

They were uniforms. Dark blue suits with black boots and the X emblem over the heart. There were multiple suits, but some of the mannequins were missing their uniforms. "What _is_ this place?" She asked herself in a whisper. Even though she barely said it, her voice reverberated through the hallway.

"What are you doing here?" A concerned woman's voice asked. There was a rapid clicking of heels on the floor. Acadia pulled up her baggy jeans and spun around. It was the red-haired scientist. "Students aren't supposed to be down here."

"I'm not—" Acadia started, afraid she was getting into trouble for being lost.

The lady cut her off, staring at her curiously. "You must be the girl Logan brought. Acadia… I'm Dr. Grey." Dr. Grey held out her hand, which Acadia shook tentatively. "Let me take you back upstairs. We can enroll you in a couple of classes."

Dr. Grey attempted to lead Acadia back to the elevator, but she stayed back. "Uh, thanks, but I don't know if we're staying here. If you could just tell me where Logan is, then—"

"He didn't tell you?" Dr. Grey asked incredulously.

"Tell me what?"

"He left with the rest of the team on a rescue mission last night." She explained, tugging on Acadia's arm to lead her to the elevator.

Acadia let herself be led along. "They left without me," she muttered bitterly, feeling the heat under her skin from her rising anger. Attempting to calm herself, she asked, "When will they be back?"

Dr. Grey led her into the elevator, pressed the button, and then answered, "No later than three days. There aren't many classes, what with some of the teachers gone, but you can join the ones that still stand."

"Yeah, whatever." Acadia said, hearing the obvious edge in her own voice. They stepped out of the round elevator, back into the school. Students were traversing the halls. Their clamor echoed up to the high ceiling. It reminded Acadia of school back home, which in turn reminded her of her home—and her mother.

Dr. Grey walked quickly down the hall, weaving through the slow-moving students. Acadia had no trouble keeping up, until someone grabbed her arm and stopped her. "Acadia!" A voice with a slight drawl exclaimed. "There you are! I went to get you this morning, but you didn't answer. I assumed you were asleep, so left you alone."

Jean turned around when she realized Acadia was no longer following her. "Rogue," She said, smiling, "would you mind if Acadia joined you in your classes? I think it would be better if she went with somebody she knew."

Rogue nodded exuberantly. "Of course!" She said. Dr. Grey nodded to them and strode down the hall. "Come on, I don't have a class. We'll go outside."

"Okay…" Acadia agreed dully. She didn't want to be rude, but she could barely stand Rogue, and that Dr. Grey wasn't ranking high on her list, either. In her opinion, Dr. Grey thought of herself as classy, wearing more formal clothes than necessary and always smelled of too-strong flowery perfume. Then again, that might just be Acadia's powerful senses. And Rogue was just downright annoying. But without anyone else around for her, she had no choice but to follow the other girl outside.

The air was dry and cold, with no wind and the sun shown warmly on everything. Acadia breathed in deeply, letting the frigid air fill her lungs. She loved being outdoors, and one aspect she appreciated about the school was its wide green lawn and surrounding forests, which were painted reds, greens, and yellows as the trees prepared to shed their leaves. The sun warmed her shoulders and back while the air chilled her skin. It lifted her tenebrous mood a bit as she followed Rogue onto the lawn and they sat on a blanket on the ground.

"So what do you think of the school?" Rogue asked her as they rested on the blanket. Rogue sat with her legs crossed and Acadia laid on her back, staring into the sky.

"Eh… it's alright… definitely better than the last week or so." Acadia admitted, freer than she expected she could.

Rogue nodded. "I guess you just need to get used to it here. Everyone does. Most of us ran away from home, or were kicked out by our parents."

Acadia didn't answer. She just continued to stare at the sky, deep in thought, until her curiosity got the better of her. "What is your mutation?" She asked the other girl, finally looking over at Rogue.

"It's kind of hard to explain," Rogue said sheepishly, "but it's more like a curse. If I touch someone, I take their energy, and can use their powers for a minute or two. But if I touch them too long…" She let the sentence hang, staring at her hands in her lap. "What about you?"

Acadia was trying to think of a way to describe herself, when she remembered what Logan had said. _A feral,_ she thought, smirking ruefully at the title. "I'm a feral." She said. Then added, "Do you know what that is?"

Rogue nodded. "Yeah, I do. Like Logan? That's so cool! That explains the teeth," she joked.

"Yeah," she agreed, smiling. To show her, she lifted her hands up and extended her claws. It was only slightly painful; not enough to bother her. In accordance, her fangs grew out, too. And, even though she couldn't feel it, she knew her eyes were sparkling cyan.

Rogue's mouth dropped open in fascination. "That's nothing like Logan," she clarified, staring at the lethal claws, "but still pretty awesome."

"I guess…" Acadia agreed, retracting her claws and fangs.

"Why do your eyes change color like that?" Rogue asked.

"Just part of it all," Acadia told her, growing tired of the conversation. Rogue seemed to understand, and didn't pursue it anymore.

The flight to Park City was almost two hours long, so Logan was grateful for the time to sleep. For the last few days he had been traveling nonstop, with almost no food or sleep. He napped dreamlessly as the jet flew seamlessly through the thin air.

"Logan?" A woman's voice echoed in his head. Somebody shook him. "Logan, wake up. We just landed." He started awake, shaking the sleep out of his brain. Storm was standing over him, one small hand on his shoulder. "Come on," she said, turning away from him.

Logan undid his seatbelt, stood up, and stretched. He stared out the windshield of the jet, only to see the darkness of the morning outside. "What time is it?" He mumbled the question.

"Four A.M." Cyclops answered, pressing the button to open the door. The stairway descended to the ground, and an icy gust of wind blew into the jet. "Damn, it's cold," Cyclops said rubbing his hands together.

"No shit, it's the mountains." Logan chuckled cynically. Cyclops stared at him for a moment, before leaving the plane.

"Cool it, Logan." Storm warned, following Scott. Logan rolled his eyes and hurried out of the plane, thankful to be back on solid ground. The hatch closed and they were left in the darkness. Logan's eyes adjusted, and he took in the scenery. They were up high in the Rockies, and he could see the bright lights of Park City in the valley below them. "Alright," Storm said, stowing the keys to the jet in her bag, "the base is built into the mountains. The entrance should be that way," she pointed down the road that they were currently standing in the middle of.

"Well then what are we waiting for?" Logan said, breaking into a jog. He was anxious to get to Kayla; God knows what experiments they were performing on her.

"Hate to break it to you," he heard Cyclops say, "but you're the only one who wants to jog." He saw Logan turn around to protest and said, "It's only about a mile. We can walk. Besides, we're already conspicuous enough."

"Fine." Logan agreed reluctantly. He waited for them to catch up to him, and they walked together down the road. The pavement became more and more worn and broken, until they were traveling on a gravel road. They finally came to tall chain link gate, crested with barbed wire, and, of course, electrically charged. "I get the feeling we're here," Logan mumbled, eyeing the fence. "Cyclops? Storm?"

Scott put one hand up to his visor, pressing the button to release the laser from his eyes. He targeted the security cameras easily, taking each one out quickly. "We don't have much time."

Storm nodded. Her dark eyes filled with a white mist, and the wind suddenly picked up. It blew around them fiercely, until a mini tornado was throwing up the gravel on its way to the fence. It tore through the gate and dissipated. "Hurry," she said, running through the opening. Scott and Logan followed suit. Their next obstacle was a heavy steel door, built into the rocky side of the mountain.

Cyclops shot another crimson laser beam from his eyes, but it only left a miniscule burn mark on the enforced metal. "I got this one," Logan scoffed, releasing the long claws from his knuckles. With two strong swipes—obviously in the shape of an X—the door was cut all the way through. Logan kicked it in with one booted foot, leaving a jagged hole right in the middle. Logan retracted the claws and led the way inside.

The unpleasant stench of chemicals, humans, and weaponry was the first thing to find him. It brought back terrible memories of the only interactions he'd had with those self-proclaimed scientists. In that area, he was grateful for not being able to remember all the pain places like this one had caused him.

There was a long hallway on the other side of the door, and they covered the distance quickly. "Cameras, Scott," Storm whispered, and Cyclops took out a few more of them.

"If they don't know we're here by now, this ought to be easy." He said, hurrying to the elevator. They rushed in as soon as the doors opened. They were silent as they ascended to the main level of the base.

The elevator stumbled to a stop, and the doors glided open. Logan's eyes widened as he saw and smelled what was waiting on the other side. "Get behind me!" He told Storm and Cyclops, who obliged. As soon as the doors were open enough, the trio was showered with a volley of bullets from waiting gunmen. They all hit Logan; through his shoulders, stomach, and one even slashed across the side of his neck.

Relying on adrenaline, he growled and lunged forward, stabbing the soldiers and cutting them down. As he was facing the last one, a red beam came from behind him and blew soldier into the concrete wall. He fell to the floor, unconscious.

Logan's breath caught in his throat, and he had to lean onto the wall. Blood poured from dozens of punctures and gashes. His chest heaved and his knees felt as if they would give up holding his weight. He felt Storm and Cyclops's eyes on warily watching him. But he couldn't pay attention to anything but the pain, and his nostrils flared at the stench of his own blood and sweat. It was overwhelming, and, just as he thought it couldn't get any worse and he was begging for death, the familiar tingling, itching sensation of healing covered every part of his injuries.

Soon, all that was left was the holes and blood stains on his uniform. He rolled his neck and stretched, ignoring the fascinated glances his teammates were sending his way. "Are you all right?" Storm asked him as they continued on their mission.

"Yeah." Logan answered curtly, searching through the chemically laden air for Kayla's scent. "It tickled."

The elevator had brought to the main level, which was another large room with more rooms and halls branching away from it. "Alright," Storm said quietly, and Logan knew by her tone that she was about to give orders, "the Professor wants us to scout the place before we rescue the girl."

"But if we're caught scouting, we won't able to rescue 'the girl'." Logan growled. "I say you two do the scouting. I'll find Kayla."

They reluctantly agreed to Logan's plan. "Keep in touch with us, Logan." Storm warned. "Do you have your ear piece?" She asked, taking her own from her belt and putting it in her ear.

Logan nodded and did the same. He immediately began checking the signs on the doors and hallways, looking for one that might lead to Kayla. "Be back at the jet by dawn." Storm told him. He ignored her, rushing down a hallway suddenly. "God, it's like taking care of a child." She told Scott. Scott chuckled, and then they both left, too.

Logan found a sign that read "Laboratories and kennels" and decided it was a good start. As he walked briskly down the hallway, he began to notice a familiar scent. He immediately recognized it as Kayla, and followed it down the hall. There was reinforced door to his left that was bolted shut from the outside. There wasn't a sign on the outside, but the strength of Kayla's scent coming from the other side told him he was on the right track.

He cut an X into the door and bashed it in. Then he glanced up and down the hall before ducking inside. It was pitch black except for guide lights along the pathway leading straight from the door. Logan searched the wall for a switch, and flipped the first one he found. Bright overhead lights flickered on, illuminating the horror in front of him. There was a row a giant cages on either side of the pathway. Most were just metal chain link, but some were huge boxes made of steel and glass viewing windows. A few had voltage warnings on them. And, in every single one, was a person; a mutant, caged like an animal. The sight drove Logan crazy with raw fury.

He set off down the pathway, anxiously checking every single cage. From each one stared back a pair lost, empty eyes, some of which belonged to children. Biting back the pity rising in his chest, he continued his search for Kayla. He could barely decipher it through all the other mutant's scents.

Just as he was beginning to think that she wasn't in one of the cages, he passed by one with a woman lying against the far side of the cage. Her face was covered with her dark hair. Her pale, thin arms were covered with dark bruises, and, despite the chill in the room, she was only dressed in a flimsy dress. Her body was unmoving; Logan could barely see her chest rise and fall with her shallow breaths.

**Okie dokie another chapter done. Reviews make my day, and I might even post more faster! You never know :P**


	13. Chapter 13

**Another chapter. School has started up again, and I can't make a promise as to when chapters will be up. Hope this one is good.**

"Kayla?" Logan whispered, approaching the cage tentatively. The woman shifted and lifted her head feebly. Her grey eyes met his, and, before he could stop himself, he chopped the lock off the door and kicked it open. He rushed into the cage and leaned down to look at Kayla more closely. The bruises weren't severe, but she was obviously weak.

"… Logan?" She managed to rasp out, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you doing here?" She struggled to prop herself up onto her hands.

Logan wrapped an arm around her small shoulders, and hooked the other under her legs. "Don't worry, I'm here to break you out." He lifted her up, more gently than he thought he could.

Her skin was ice cold against his hands, and she snuggled into his chest. "I'm freezing." She said quietly, closing her eyes.

"I'm not surprised," Logan chuckled, a rumbling laugh that shook Kayla while she was hanging in his arms. He left the cage and walked as fast as he could without disturbing her. "You look like you haven't eaten in weeks. What happened?" He asked, turning cold and serious. "What did they do to you?" His voice was threatening and dark, and it even surprised him.

But she didn't answer. She had fallen asleep without him noticing. Logan glanced down at her face. She no longer had a troubled, scared expression. She looked content, if not starved and fatigued.

Logan wanted to phone the other two to tell them he had gotten Kayla and he was headed for the jet, but he was holding her with both arms and couldn't reach up to activate it. He decided that they would just meet him there at dawn. But then he remembered that Storm had the keys, and he wouldn't dare sit outside in the cold air with Kayla in the state that she was in.

When he reached the elevator, he gingerly sat down against the wall, resting Kayla in his lap and ignoring the dead soldiers still littering the ground. He pressed the button on his ear piece to contact Storm. He spoke into it quietly, watching the doors and hallways for the slightest flicker of movement. Storm didn't answer, but he hoped that she heard him.

Footsteps echoed into his sensitive ears. He listened for a moment, and determined that they were coming from the hallway to his left. He watched the shadows in the dark tunnel warily. Storm stepped into view, followed by Cyclops. He felt relieved, and stood up again.

"Is that her?" Storm inquired as she strode up to Logan. He nodded. "Then let's get out of here."

"What did you find?" Logan asked them as they waited for the elevator.

"This place is gigantic," Scott told him, "it's going to take more than one night to figure it out."

He looked at Storm for more details. "We searched for the security room, to give us some way to see the entire place. But we couldn't find one. And there aren't any maps."

They stepped inside the elevator, all three of them wound up tight with anxiety. They'd gone so far without being caught or even noticed. Something was off, and it didn't take feral senses to notice. "What's even stranger," Scott continued as they stepped onto the ground floor, "is that we didn't see one person. Not even a guard. But I bet you already noticed."

"Yeah, I got that much." Logan said crossly, being the first out of the base. The hole in the door was too small for Logan to climb through holding Kayla, so he had to hand her through to Scott. Once he followed the way out himself, he took her back.

They walked back to the jet, watching the sun rise over the mountains. The giant plane came into view a short while later, and they hurried aboard. Storm wasted no time in starting the engine. Logan and Cyclops tended to Kayla. Cyclops grabbed a blanket from a storage bin and wrapped it around her. Without a place where she could lay down, she remained in Logan's arms. He held her trivial weight without a problem, and he worried less. He wasn't used to worrying—and he didn't enjoy it.

Acadia and Rogue stayed outside for the following hour. She found that Rogue's bubbly, talkative personality grew on her, and she didn't mind the other girl's company as much as she did to begin with. But their afternoon outside was interrupted by heavy clouds rolling in from the east. "Aw, man, it was so nice outside!" Rogue whined as her and Acadia rushed up the steps to the mansion.

Acadia and Rogue sat by a window and continued to talk, watching the storm clouds approach until the entire sky was a morose grey and raindrops streaked down the window. Acadia learned about Rogue, and her new friend's past. The best part was that Rogue didn't demand her past in return; she wasn't in the mood to share.

After talking for quite some time, both girls were content to sit in silence. Rogue was writing in a notebook, and Acadia stared out the window at the damp landscape darken at the coming of night. She saw the gates and long gravel driveway, and the surrounding green. She admitted that this place was beautiful.

Something at the gate caught her eye. A black Escalade was sitting on the other side of the gate. The tinted windows made it difficult to see inside. Another movement from over the lawn caught her eye. A dark form was looming over the horizon. It was moving quickly towards them. As it got closer, she could tell that it was three black helicopters. They were coming straight to the school.

"Rogue…" She mumbled, nudging her friend but not taking her eyes away from the helicopters. Rogue looked up and followed Acadia's stare. "What is that?" They watched the helicopters approach.

"At the gate, too!" Rogue said nervously, pointing in the direction of the Escalade. "Does the Professor know?"

"I'm not sure, where is he?" Acadia asked. Her eyes widened as the Escalade powered through the gate and came roaring up the driveway to the mansion. Then she remembered the Professor had been on his way out. He had said he would be gone until late. "Shit!" Acadia cursed. "Come on!" She pulled Rogue up and they ran from the window. They rushed into the hallway. No one was around; they were probably all preparing for bed in their dorms.

"Upstairs!" Rogue told Acadia worriedly. They sprinted for the staircase, and reached as they heard a loud crash and boom. Spinning around, they saw that the front door had been kicked in, and armed men were pouring into the house. A window from upstairs crashed, and shouts and screams were heard as the other residents realized what was happening.

"Rogue! Go hide!" Acadia told her, pushing her away.

"W-what about you?" Rogue asked, not leaving.

Acadia didn't answer with words. Instead, she brought out her claws and fangs and jumped down from the stairs. She snarled at the gunmen in the doorway, who raised their weapons. She cut through the barrels of their rifles, rendering them useless. Then she moved in to attack them. She slit their throats mercilessly, turning into an animal.

She turned her cyan eyes back to the staircase, where Rogue was still standing. She was watching Acadia, until a soldier jumped in front of her. He grabbed her arm. Acadia jumped into action, but the man was already falling over in pain. She stared at Rogue, who was pulling her glove back over her hand. "You're not the only one, remember?" She smirked and sprinted up the stairs.

Acadia spun around again, only to have her head meet with the butt of a rifle. It knocked her to the floor, where it was followed by a harsh boot to her ribs. There was a pause in the assault, and she rolled onto her hands and knees, coughing up blood. But she already felt the healing complex kicking in, so she sprang up and punched the guy in the jaw. He spun backwards with the surprise and power behind the hit. Acadia jumped onto his chest and stabbed a clawed hand into his chest, literally ripping out his heart.

His body jerked and fell to the floor, and Acadia moved on without a second glance. She positioned herself behind the staircase, in the hallway, attacking any soldiers that came down the stairs. Some carried children slung over their shoulders, heading for the door. It was then that she realized the mission behind the ambush.

As she tried to get the kids to hide in the kitchen, three gunmen appeared and cornered her. One scared the younger kids towards the door, where they were picked off like animals and carted outside, while the other two closed in on Acadia. She tried focusing on both, but as one attacked from one side, the other tried to hit her with her back turned. She spun around just in time to see the other trying to hit her.

He was suddenly hoisted off the ground. While he dangled from his collar, Acadia slashed across his chest. Then the mysterious hero behind him threw him into the wall, leaving a huge bloodied dent in the carved wood. In front of Acadia now stood a six-foot tall, gleaming strongman. The silver steel vanished to leave Piotr standing in its place. "I got your back," He told her, and she heard the hints of his Russian accent. She smiled her gratitude and nodded. "Look out!" He shouted, and reached over her to punch an advancing soldier square in the face.

Acadia spun around waiting for an attack, but who she saw sidling through the doorway made her jump behind the staircase. It was General Marx, surrounded by four guards. She stopped moving and motioned for Colossus to hide as well. He crouched down and peered over the stairs at the man in the threshold.

"Remember, we only stay for an hour. We leave at sunset, and if you aren't on the helicopter, you get left behind." Marx said, in his sly voice, though he sounded very serious. It was big change to how Acadia normally heard him; he was usually sly and conniving. "Take as many as you can catch, but we don't leave without the girl."

Acadia slumped against the wall, letting herself fall to the floor. _Shit,_ she thought. She glanced up at Piotr, who was looking at her questioningly. She shook her head as a response, and he shrugged and returned to watching Marx and his guard. "Get down!" Acadia hissed at him, her blue eyes alight with fear. He obliged, sitting next to her.

"What are they doing here?" He asked.

"They came to get me." Acadia admitted, glancing down the hallway both directions.

The Colossus nodded, as if he made up his mind. He suddenly became steel once more and jumped over the banister behind them. Acadia stood up and could only watch as he lunged at Marx and his men. They shot at him, but the tiny bullets pounced off of him uselessly. The gunmen stood their ground in front of their leader. Piotr punched and shouldered them out of his way, moving through them right for General Marx.

But he couldn't hold his armor up for long. It started to disappear in places, slowly leaking away until only his torso and head were still silver. Marx quickly pulled out a handgun and held it up, pointing it at the giant mutant. He put a well-placed bullet in each of his shoulders and thighs, rendering his arms and legs useless. He tumbled down to the floor, landing right at Marx's feet. His armor was completely gone, and the general held the gun pointed at his head.

"Take this one, too." He told the soldiers who had appeared through the door. "He'll come in handy." It took four soldiers to drag Piotr by the shoulders to the Escalade, his feet dragging in the gravel. They threw him carelessly into the trunk. "See, boys?" Marx told his guards, who were struggling to stand up. "Even the biggest animals can be taken down. Now find the girl. I'll be waiting outside."

The injured guards nodded weakly and two managed to stand up. Acadia stood extremely still, knowing that moving could be what gave her away. But as one of the men looked her way, his eyes widened with surprise. She knew that she had been seen and bolted down the hallway. The window at the end was her only escape, and she prepared herself to jump through, imagining what was on the other side.

She had only reached it when she felt sharp needles in each of her shoulders. Pain erupted from the areas, and she noticed her vision blurring. Even though she knew she still too far from the window, she jumped into the air and covered her face with her arms. But the leap was weak, and her side came in contact with the wall beneath the window. From there she fell to the floor, and the last thing she could remember was ripping darts out of her back.

**Cliff-hanger? I hope so! mwa ha haa! lol review please.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I decided to be nice and add another chapter.... But I'm sorry it's been a while. I try to write a ton and get ahead of the chapters, and those of you who keep up with Avatar know that I started a story for that as well. So Ima doin' ma best! :P Anywho, enjoy chapter 14!**

She became aware that her mind was returning to consciousness, if not very groggy. The first thing she noticed was that she was moving. She tried to open her eyes. It took most of her concentration, but she managed to squint and see the black ceiling of a car. _The Escalade_, she realized. That means they got her. She had been captured. This angered her so much that she was able to open her eyes fully and look around.

They were in the back of the huge car. The back row of seats had been folded down to make a flat area to lay her. There were four men in the seats of the car. The two front seats were taken up by a driver and a guard. There were two more guards in the back seats. _Guess Marx was too scared to ride with us,_ she mused.

Acadia became aware of someone lying next to her. As silently as she could, she turned her head to see who it was. It was Piotr. He had blood-soaked bandages around his legs and shoulders where he had been shot, and his hands and feet were bound.

Acadia tried to reach to him, only to find out that her own hands and feet were tied. She knew that struggling would only bring her a beating and more of that tranquilizer, so she didn't do anything.

"How far out are we?" One of the guards in the back asked. "I think the girl is waking up." He glanced back at her, and she closed her eyes and let her body go limp.

"ETA: fifteen minutes." The guy in the passenger seat said. "The truck is waiting for us."

Acadia was filled with dread. She had no idea what was going to happen to her and Piotr. At the checkpoint, the trunk of the Escalade was opened to reveal more soldiers. Two didn't have any weapons, but were surrounded by ones who did. They reached in and grabbed Acadia by her ankles and dragged her out of the car. They untied her feet and picked her up, making her stand. They stood on either side of her, holding tightly to her arms.

Even though her mind was dulled and foggy, a familiar scent reached through her artificial fatigue. It reminded her of the Canadian forest and musk. That man Victor was near. She couldn't see him, but the thought of him made her growl threateningly. One of the soldiers smacked her on the back of her head. "Shut up!"

The two men guided her away from the SUV and towards a giant eighteen-wheel truck. The back was opened and being used as a ramp. The inside was well-lit, with a central aisle down the middle. Built into the sides was what looked like cages. Acadia was forced up the ramp and shoved into one of the cages. It was simply an oversized dog kennel, with a metal tray for a floor and thumbprint lock on the door.

Before they locked her in, they cut her bindings from her wrists (Because it was totally inhumane to keep the wrists tied up while you were in a dog kennel being carted off to a lab). She watched the red marks disappear from her skin.

There were shouts from outside the truck. She watched as they tried to carry Piotr onto the truck, only to have him fall. She snarled as he collapsed into the dirt. They picked him like nothing had happened and struggled all the way into the truck. He was placed into the cage next to hers.

Being dropped on the ground by their detainers had awoken him, and he stared Acadia through tired, pained eyes. "What's going on?"

"We've been captured. Are you all right?" She asked him, glancing at his injuries.

He followed her gaze. His eyes widened at all the crimson bandages. "I'm still alive, so I guess so." He answered. "Do you know where they're taking us?"

"No, but I bet it's the same place they took my mom." Acadia answered. Even though their conversation was negative and dreary, she was thankful for someone to talk to. Had it been just her, she would spend the entire trip trying to break out and attempting to kill the people who put her in a cage.

"I guess we'll have to see when we get there." Piotr mumbled, rolling over onto his back to stare through the cage at the ceiling. He winced as he bumped his wounds, and exhaled a pent-up breath he didn't know he was holding.

The truck rumbled along for hours upon hours, and Acadia and Piotr filled their time talking. She learned about his past, and she, in turn, told him hers. "I was born and raised in Siberia," He told her, "I had a sister and brother. I first learned about my powers when I had to save my sister from a runaway tractor. My family was scared of me, so I left for America. The Professor found me and taught me English."

"Wow," Acadia said, imagining Piotr and his family. "All the way here?"

He nodded. "What about you? How did you find the School?"

"I'm just from Canada," She told him. "I lived there with my mother. Logan saved my life, and then my mom was kidnapped. So I looked for Logan. He was on his way here and I just came with him 'cause he promised to save her." She knew there were plenty of holes in her story, but she wasn't about to divulge her entire life to someone she had just met, even if her did save her life and they were both headed for certain destruction.

The truck lurched to a stop, and Acadia shushed Piotr and listened intently. Outside, people were talking, and the voices were approaching the back of the truck. "Do you want them drugged for the transfer?" Asked one.

"Yes, let's make this easy." Answered another, more familiar—if not equally hated—voice. "This is precious cargo. We want the female one in one piece when she sees her mother again." His tone took on a mocking, joking, careless aspect. "Won't that be touching?"

"Alright." Answered the other man. Then he began barking out orders. "You two, take the girl. You four, get the big guy. Wait till they're out before you move 'em."

Acadia looked at Piotr, matching his fear-filled stare. Then the back door of the truck flipped down into a ramp and six soldiers marched in. "Who wants to reach in and sedate them?" One asked incredulously. When no one volunteered, he cocked his rifle and said, "I guess we'll just shoot 'em."

Unable to avoid the oncoming shot, both Acadia and Piotr remained still. Neither of them winced as the thick needle dug into their arms. Blackness greeted them, and they had no idea that they had been moved onto a plane headed west.

"When are we going to be back at the School?" Logan asked impatiently, his arms cramping from holding them in same cradling position for an hour and a half. Kayla was still asleep, but at least she had stopped shaking.

"Soon," Storm answered from her seat at the controls. "What the…" Logan heard her mumble as she peered out of the windshield of the jet.

"What is it?" Scott asked, standing up and looking out the windshield as well.

"Three helicopters. I wonder what's going on," Storm mused, returning her attention to flying the jet. In about a half an hour, the School's grounds came into view. "We're here," Storm announced, and they all felt the sharp descent begin.

"Finally," Logan mumbled.

"Oh, no." Storm said nervously. Scott stood up once more and stared through the windshield into the darkening night. He, too, saw what was amiss.

"What now?" Logan asked irritably. He couldn't easily get up and look.

"The front gate has been broken down." Storm answered, matching his foul mood with her own. "We have to get inside, quickly."

She landed the jet in the hangar and opened the hatch. Her and Cyclops ran down into the lab, while Logan had to walk off, still gently holding Kayla. "Give Kayla to Jean. She'll take care of her while we go upstairs and see what's going on."

They all walked down the white hallways of the underground lab, and filed into one of the rooms. Logan laid Kayla on one of the tables where Jean could look her over.

Jean was standing close-by, worry evident on her face. "They came back," She told them, distraught.

"Who came back?" Logan asked, although he already knew the answer.

"A carbon copy of Stryker, that's who. He brought a handful of soldiers through the mansion. Most manage to escape, but—"

"Where's Acadia?" Logan almost yelled. When he didn't an answer fast enough, he asked again, "Well, where is she?"

"I'm sorry, Logan, she wasn't here when I checked—" Jean tried to explain.

"So she's gone?" Logan clarified, glancing at Kayla to make sure that she couldn't hear any of the conversation.

"Logan, she isn't the only one. There are maybe twenty of the other kids missing." Jean told him.

"We'll get them back," Storm assured him.

"Where's Rogue?" He asked, about to leave the room.

"Down the hall, to the right. She is with the other students, staying down here until the upstairs is fixed." Jean explained, watching him leave.

Logan broke into a jog and followed the hall to where Rogue was. He opened the door, and was greeted by the stares of about fifteen students. He spotted Rogue immediately, and she saw him. "Logan!" She smiled and rushed over to him. "You're back! I—" She stopped, realizing why he looked so distressed. "I'm sorry. They burst through the door and—"

"Slow down, kid." Logan said, grabbing her shoulders. "What happened?"

"Acadia and I were just sitting there, and they ran down the door and started shooting. Acadia was trying to fight them off. Her and Piotr were taken away…" She managed to say.

Logan turned away from her, his eyes glazing over as he thought. Acadia was on her way to where he'd just come from. In his mind, he wondered why they hadn't crossed paths. Then he remembered Storm's comment about the helicopters heading the opposite direction. _Damn it! _He thought, _they passed right under our noses!_

Are you all ri—" Rogue began to ask, before Logan rushed out the door and slammed it behind him. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the door. The last time he was at the mansion, that was the way he had acted about her. When she, Rogue, was captured, he did everything to get her back. It seemed to her that he moved on, and had a new damsel to protect. She wondered what made Acadia so goddamned important.

Little did she know, Logan was actually thinking the same thing. He was surprised by his own behavior. He had no idea why it was so imperative to him that Acadia was safe. She was just a girl, no more important than any of the other children that were captured. But he knew he was kidding himself thinking that. There was no denying that his instincts screamed at him to protect her. For all he knew, it could just be because she was a feral, like himself. These thoughts captivated his mind as he traversed the hall back to the examination room where the others were still discussing the matter.

"We need to go back as soon as possible," Storm said as Logan entered. They all turned to look at him, but his livid glare sent their glances in another direction.

"No shit," was Logan's response, "but how soon are you thinking?"

"We take a couple of days to regroup, and get information from the woman we rescued—" Storm tried to explain.

But she couldn't finish. "First of all, her name is Kayla." Logan said protectively. "Second, we don't have 'a couple days.' We go back now." His demand earned him incredulous and frustrated stares from the rest of the group. His whole body was set with his decision.

"Not so fast, Logan," an accented voice said from behind him. All attention was on the door as Xavier wheeled into the room. "Storm has a good point. You can't just go crashing back in there. Kayla may have information on how to get in and rescue the children they captured. But first, she needs to wake up."

He pushed the joystick on his chair forward and approached the table that Kayla was resting on. "How does she look, Jean?" He asked seriously, ignoring the group standing behind him.

"Malnourished, a couple bruises, infected cuts, but other than that she should be fine. The only thing that bothers me is this." Gently, Jean lifted Kayla's head away from the table, turning her face away from the professor. She pointed to the nape of her neck, at the base of her hairline. There was swollen cut, and something under the surface of the skin. Xavier stared at it thoughtfully. "Do you think it's a tracking device?" Jean asked nervously.

Xavier shook his head. "No. to be completely honest, I don't think they cared about her that much. I can't be sure of what it's for until it's removed. But we can't do it now, she's too weak. Give her some time, and then we'll see."

Jean nodded and placed Kayla's head back on the small pillow. Logan stood at the edge of the group, by the door, with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like someone had thoroughly ruffled his feathers. His death glare was directed at anything that moved, and his eyes remained distant. He looked brooding and vengeful.

"Someone should watch her until morning," Jean suggested.

"I'll do it." Logan volunteered faster than he even thought it. No one argued, and they all shuffled out of the room. Logan grabbed a chair from a nearby desk and pulled it up next to Kayla. She didn't react when he wrapped his hands around one of hers. It was cool, but he could feel her slight pulse. The lights flickered off around them, leaving only a few on to light the room dimly.

He stayed awake for hours, even though his mind was shutting down without his consent. He found that his eyelids were getting heavy. He fought sleep back, even though he caught himself dozing off a few times. Each time he re-awoke, he would glance at Kayla. Of course she hadn't moved, but he couldn't help but hope.

Logan let go of her hand and leaned back in his chair. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. "Stay awake," he mumbled to himself, "God damn it, stay awake."

A slight movement in front of him sharpened his focus. It was so miniscule he was surprised he had even noticed. But Kayla's hand, the one he had been holding for the past few hours, moved. It was like she was reflexively reaching out for something. Logan glanced up at her face; he was surprised to see that she looked worried. She tossed her head slightly to the side. Logan immediately reached out and grabbed her hand again, reminding himself not to hold onto it too tightly. He instinctively checked around him to make sure that no one he knew was seeing him grow so soft.

Acadia woke up suddenly as she harshly jostled around. She didn't recognize anything around her, and willed her muscles and body to react and make sure that she was safe, but they wouldn't respond. She could only look around wildly as her tiny crate was carried down a long aisle. On either side were giant versions of her container.

She was stopped in front of an empty cage, where the door was lifted up just enough for her crate to be set up against it. The door to her crate opened, but the only place for her to go was the larger, more permanent cage. Neither prospect was very pleasant, so she didn't bother moving. Besides that, he body and mind were lethargic from the influence of the drugs.

Something sharp poked the back of her thigh. A sudden jolt of electricity coursed through her, radiating from her leg. She jumped up, nearly hitting her head on the ceiling of her crate. "Go on," someone behind her said, prodding her again with a burst of electricity. She growled at him, but grudgingly obliged. She didn't see any other options.

She sat facing the door, eyes wide, and took in everything around her. There were so many other mutants, caged similarly. Each had a distinct scent, but instead of being their natural identification, they were altered somehow. It was like the people here did so many horrid things that their test subjects had lost their identity in the process. The acrid stench of cleaners and chemicals made her nose burn and her head spin.

She closed her eyes. The sights were torturing her thoughts. This was going to be hell. She hugged her knees to her chest, each second a century long.

There was the shuffling of feet outside her cage. At first, she thought they would stop in front of her, but then they kept going. It sounded like more than a couple people were struggling with something heavy. Acadia cracked one cyan eye open and watched, horrified, as a few uniformed men dragged Piotr into the cage next to hers.

His body was battered and limp, his face paler than its usual dark tan. The humans dumped him on the concrete floor of the chain link cell, slamming the door shut and leaving the room. "Lights out," one of them called out, laughing. A couple seconds later, the overhead lights hanging from the ceiling shut off, plunging the room into total darkness.

It was not like the darkness of the forest or the mountains. It was artificial darkness, where normal eyes couldn't adjust. The only light was from the perforated edges of the walkway, which sent out their orange glow a couple feet in every direction.

"Piotr?" Acadia whispered, trying to get the boy's attention. "Come on, wake up." She demanded anxiously, not knowing what they'd done to him.

Piotr groaned, and Acadia could barely make out a form moving in the darkness next to her. "Goddamn…" his deep voice rasped as if it hurt to talk. "You alright?" He asked, squinting in the pitch black space.

Acadia's eyes had adjusted just enough that she could see shapes. "Yeah… if you count being locked in a glorified dog kennel alright." She answered cynically.

"I know what you mean…" Piotr commented. She saw him craning his neck to see around him, only to find more opaque blackness. "They really like to keep it dark, don't they?"

"It's disorienting." Acadia stated flatly, knowing why they did it. If one of them _were_ to escape, they wouldn't be able to see their hand touching their nose, let alone where they were going. She guessed that the security cameras were thermal or night vision. Shit.

"What do they want with us?" The Colossus asked her after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"Good question," a voice sounded coldly from one of the surrounding cages. It was a man's voice, coming from across the aisle way. "We have been asking that same question for a lot longer than you. Some of us for over fifteen years…" the voice was bitter, pain obvious.

"How long have you been here?" Acadia asked the stranger, wishing she could see him. She could only make out his shape, hunched over himself in his own confines. He seemed very bulky in his torso, but with thinner legs—probably the result of his mutation, or an experiment.

"A few years." He answered. "I thought was going to be freed a few days ago, when that Logan character busted his ass in here. But he passed by every one of us except for the woman who was in that cage before you… didn't even glance at anyone else."

Acadia's attention was grabbed by the mention of Logan. So he had managed to rescue her mother. At least, that was the obvious answer as to who the woman was. "What did she look like?" Acadia asked to confirm her suspicions.

The stranger didn't answer for a moment. Acadia's patience was running low, before he said, "A lot like you."

Acadia couldn't help but smile, even though the fact that her mother was here meant that she wasn't very lucky.

The stranger spoke up again. "I suggest you two get some rest. I expect those mad scientists will be chomping at the bit to see what _you're_ made of." Acadia heard him shift his weight on the concrete floor.

Acadia didn't need to voice her agreement. She glanced at Piotr, whom she could now see just enough to discern some of his features. His tan face was contorted with fear. She knew he couldn't see his hand right in front of his face, let alone her, so she pretended that she couldn't see him and tried to sleep. For the most part, it wasn't successful.

**Don't expect a very punctual next chapter, I don't have much after this part yet. Plus, my next task is to update Avatar story, and then try to squeeze some brilliance into my Eragon story, which I have left by itself for far too long. Review please! I love hearing your thoughts on my writing :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**New chapter! I think I'm going to get at least ten more out of this story, and then _maybe_ a sequel. So yeah, just thought I'd let you know now. :P**

"Logan…" A voice broke through his unconsciousness, beckoning him to leave his dreams. "Logan." It became more prudent, and he felt someone shake him.

Suddenly somebody smacked him on the side of the head. Logan jumped up, sending his claws swiping through the air behind him, from where the hit had come from. He rested the gleaming claws on somebody's throat.

"Alright, bad idea." Scott muttered through clenched teeth, holding his hands up in surrender as he felt the point of the claws on his throat.

"You deserved that…" Storm said. She was standing next to Logan, who was still breathing heavily.

Logan glared at Scott and retracted his claws. "What the hell do you want?" He asked the other mutants, struggling to keep his voice level—for Kayla's sake.

"You fell asleep hunched over in that chair. It's morning." Storm told him. Logan looked behind him, where he had fallen asleep beside the examination table.

Which was now empty. "Where is she?" Logan asked, his heart rate rising.

Storm narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him. His reaction wasn't very Logan-like. He cleared his throat, heading for the door. "Is she awake?"

"Yes, but she's still out of it." Storm warned as Logan rushed past her and Cyclops. He tried to keep his pace under control, and was trying not to break into a run for the elevator. The door didn't open fast enough. It was only when he was on his way to the main level that he realized he had no idea if she was up there or not. Cursing his rushed stupidity, he stepped out into the wooden hallway, the scars and bullet holes from the attack still visible.

Then her scent hit him. The dizzying perfume was almost tangible, and, nostrils flaring, he followed the strengthening aroma to the kitchens.

"Try to eat something," Logan overheard Jean saying. "It would be easier if you could eat for yourself."

"I'm not really that hungry…" A feminine voice answered.

_Kayla._ Logan kept himself from busting into the room, and entered through the threshold as casually as possible. He glanced at Jean, but then focused on Kayla. She looked a tiny bit better, but she was still covered in bruises and cuts, and she looked extremely tired. She was a bit thinner than before she had been kidnapped, but she hadn't been there long enough to completely lose her body weight.

"Morning," Logan said, smiling easily at Kayla.

Kayla turned around in her chair to look at him. A mix of surprise and sheer joy crossed her face at the sight of him. "Logan!" She said, getting up and going over to him. Logan, in a very unnatural gesture, held his arms out to give her a hug, which she accepted without thought. He held her for a moment, burying his face in her dark hair, before pulling away and guiding Kayla back to the table. He sat next to her, giving Jean a look that told her she could leave.

When they were alone, Logan asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over more than once." Kayla said, rubbing her temples. "This Steven Marx is even worse than Stryker," She mumbled.

Logan felt a sudden flush of rage-filled adrenaline course through him. His only thought was to hunt down the general and make him pay for everything he had done. Well, that's what he told himself. Truthfully, it was for Kayla. Kayla, and no one else. He didn't realize how strongly he felt about her, and wasn't used to it. The Wolverine wasn't used to caring for anything but himself. He had always pushed his feelings aside as much as he could, but now, they just rose to the surface. He didn't realize how much he cared for Kayla until she was gone. Now that she was back it was one less thing for him to worry about.

Not only was Logan not used to caring for someone else, but the nagging sense of déjà vu came back and gave him a splitting headache every time he was around Kayla. It was like he knew her, but he didn't. He wanted to remember, but couldn't. It was aggravating and confusing.

Kayla sat silently next to Logan, letting him stay within his own thoughts. His brow was furrowed and he was staring out the window. His hands were resting in his lap, and Kayla took one of them and grasped with her own small hands. She wanted to try something, secretly hopeful. _Remember_, She thought desperately, squeezing Logan's hand. _Remember something,_ anything.

Logan's frown grew, and his eyes glazed over. Flashes of images passed through his mind quickly, one after the other. It was like a motion picture in fast forward. His headache was growing in intensity with every strange memory that revealed itself. Finally, he couldn't take any more. Logan put both of his hands to his forehead, pressing his palms into his skull, and breaking the contact to Kayla. "God… damn…" He mumbled.

"What's wrong?" Kayla asked worriedly, afraid that she was wrong and had hurt him. If he couldn't remember, it would be fine, but it was worth a shot.

"Just a bad headache," Logan answered curtly, resting his elbows on the table, his head still in his hands. Soon, though, the pain in his head subsided, and he could see straight again.

"Are you okay?" Kayla asked him as he sat up and looked at her again.

"I'm fine," Logan answered, nodding.

"Where's Acadia?" Kayla asked suddenly.

Logan didn't answer immediately, thinking before he opened his mouth to speak. What would he say? He had no idea.

But when he didn't say anything, realization dawned on Kayla's face. "No…" She breathed, narrowing her eyes.

Logan shook his head and stared at the floor. "I'm sorry," Was all he could manage to say. He had tried to protect her, but he couldn't do that while he was gone. He got one thing and lost the other, which was hardly fair. But if the last fifteen years had taught him anything, it was that life wasn't fair.

"What happened?" Kayla asked after a few minutes of silence. Through her voice, Logan could tell she was crying. It was sadness and loss and fear.

"… I wasn't here. I was rescuing you, when General Marx showed up here. She wasn't the only one that he took." Logan explained, not looking up from gazing at his shoes.

"You make it sound like it's your fault," Kayla told him. Though she still sounded heartbreakingly sad, she threw him off guard with her comment. It was the last thing he would expect to hear.

"Well, the last time something happened to your daughter, it was," Logan chuckled mirthlessly.

Kayla sighed. "I shouldn't have blamed you," She admitted, regret joining the rest of the pitiful emotions expressed in her voice. She put her hand on the side of his face and pulled his head up, making Logan look at her. "Just promise me you'll help get her back."

"I promise." Logan agreed quickly. Though he didn't initially admit it, he would go to Hell and back if she requested it. Nothing had ever captured his attentions as much as the woman sitting in front of him.

Kayla surprised Logan when she began to close the distance between them. Her silver-colored eyes searched him for any sign that she should move away, but there was none, so she tentatively pressed her lips against his. At first, Logan didn't move. But his shock wore off and he kissed her back. He gingerly wrapped his arms around her waist, careful not to press on any bruises. He was almost afraid that he would hurt Kayla if he held her.

A loud buzzing noise woke Acadia with a start. It vibrated her eardrums and her eyes snapped open. The first thing she noticed was the cold, rough floor under her side that she was laying on. Second, she was still engulfed in darkness, but could see the criss-crossing pattern of the cage around her. Memories of how she got there made her want to roar with frustration.

A few seconds after the alarm, fluorescent lights came on in rows, illuminating the long room with their harsh, white light. After being confined to pitch blackness for over twelve hours, Acadia had to cover her eyes as they burned painfully. It seemed that every single thing that they did was for shock value and pain, down to something as miniscule as turning on and off lights.

Footsteps sounded at the beginning of the walkway, by the thick steel door. They were quick, echoing off the high ceiling. Acadia pushed herself away from the floor and crept to the front of her cage.

A tall, gangly man in a white lab coat was flitting about the walkway, peering into each cage with wide-eyed wonder. His hair was curly, colored salt-and-pepper grey. He looked almost like Einstein, except for that he was clean-shaven and had a long, gaunt face. Acadia also noticed that he never stood completely still.

He finally made his way down the isle of kennels to where the newer residents were. Acadia scrambled back from the door to the center of the cage, watching the stranger intently. She could tell that her eyes hadn't changed back since the afternoon with Rogue at the mansion, and her nails had stayed sharp. They were outward signs that she sensed a threat, and they hadn't gone away. But she wasn't surprised.

For the first time since she'd woken up, Acadia glanced over to Piotr. The other mutant was awake, but he look groggy and in a haze of pain. He was sitting cross-legged and leaning back on his elbows, watching intently the scientist through narrowed dark eyes.

The lanky old man in the lab coat stared right back at him, striding over to Piotr's cage. "This was the one brought in last night?" He asked in a stuttering voice, tripping over some of the words.

"Yes, sir," A guard said, glancing at a clipboard in his hands. "Piotr Rasputin, can turn his skin into organic steel for periods of time, making him nearly indestructible."

The scientist nodded, bulging eyes taking in every detail on the boy like a deranged wolf. "I see. We shall have a look at him later." He mumbled, his stare quivering before looking around the chamber. They settled on Acadia, and, for the first time since he had walked in, he stood completely still, but for no more than a second.

"I already know what _this_ is," He grinned. "And what a treat it is! Hah! It's like an early birthday present. I never thought Marx would actually get one." His eyes lit up with evident delight as he stared at Acadia with even more intensity than he had treated to Piotr. Her lip curled back and hissed, revealing her lengthening canine teeth. But instead of having the desired effect of making him back away, the stubby fangs only seemed to make him more excited. "And just as feisty as I expected! You don't disappoint!" He exclaimed, addressing Acadia.

The unhinged scientist unnerved Acadia. He was unlike any human she had seen. But that, she guessed, was because the rest like him were locked away. This one seemed to have gotten off on good behavior, only to relapse.

His next words made her jump to her feet and made her claws extend. "Bring her now," He told the guard, walking away with jerky, uneven movements. The rest of the caged mutants shied away from his presence.

The guard stepped forward, tentatively unlocking the thumbprint ID lock. Acadia's legs tensed, preparing her pounce on the guard as soon as the cage door opened. But, apparently, that's what the human expected. As soon as Acadia moved with superior speed, the guard had side-stepped. As suddenly as she had attacked, a blinding pain wrapped around Acadia's throat. She gasped for air, clutching at her throat and barely missing scratching herself. Her vision began to go blurry as she tugged at whatever was inhibiting her breathing.

The pain and pressure on Acadia's throat eased, but only enough to the point where she had enough air to stay conscious. She noticed that the guard was now pressed up behind her, gripping the cord that he had now fastened around her throat. "Next time you'll think twice about attacking, won't you?" The guard taunted in her ear through clenched teeth. The thick wiry cord around her throat kept her from getting enough air to organize her thoughts. It took all of her efforts simply to breathe and stay standing, so she couldn't do anything but glare at the floor when he tied her wrists behind her back, winding the cable all the way down her hands.

Acadia struggled as much as she could bear against it, but he fought her back, shoving her onto the walkway and fighting with her all the way to the door. She found that if she kept as still as possible, the choking collar wouldn't block her windpipe. But that meant complying, which she wasn't about to do.

In a final attempt at freeing herself, Acadia extended her claws and tried to cut through the wire binding her wrists and fingers together. But, apparently, she wasn't subtle enough, because the guard just laughed and smacked her arm, saying, "You aren't going to be able to cut through those, babe. Trust me, you got nowhere to go." Her jaw tensed and she resisted the urge to spin around and bite him.

Eventually, they came to another door. Acadia's guard unlocked it with his thumbprint and the heavy metal plates glided open. A nauseating wave of the unnatural, toxic stench of chemicals and the metallic smell of blood rushed into Acaida's nose, making her eyes go wide for a moment. But the sights of the room ahead of her weren't any better.

It was a fairly large, well-kept laboratory, with a wall of monitors on one side and a long table on the other. In the middle were a few metal tables… with worn straps on them. On the table to the right of the door were a few medical-looking machines. Acadia noticed vials of blood and other unidentifiable substances.

Acadia grimaced as she was forcibly steered to one of the upright tables. There was a small ledge on the bottom, where she was made to stand with her back flat against the cold metal. She was wheezing and going dizzy from the lack of air, and her rage was building up at the thought that one human could contain her strength so easily.

Only when Acadia's wrists, ankles, waist and neck were bound to the examination table did the guard untie the cord from around her neck. She gasped in the chilly air like she had been trapped under water. Her heart was racing and pounding against her ribs.

She heard and smelled the scientist before she saw him. His footsteps were unmistakably light and flighty, and his scent was unique to anything Acadia had ever smelled. It was the normal human stench, laced with something acrid and deranged. It didn't reassure her that even his scent screamed 'crazy'.

He walked around to the front of Acadia's table, so she could see him. Next to him was a metal trolley covered with medical tools and such. "Good morning, my dear," He said quietly, rubbing his chin and staring at the trolley. "What shall we do first?"

He contemplated out loud a number of horrid-sounding procedures under his breath. Finally, it seemed like he found one he liked. "Let's start with some blood."

He plucked up one of the needles with an open plastic fitting on the other end. Then, he came over to Acadia and tied a tourniquet around her upper arm. "This won't hurt," He muttered, sounding disappointed. When the blue vein appeared in the crook of her arm, he shoved the needle in. Acadia hissed—it seemed like he wanted to make it more painful than necessary, though she barely felt it in the first place. He was annoying on principle. The scientist held the needle in place and pulled a glass vial from his pocket, fitting it into the other side. It immediately began to fill with Acadia's blood.

After four full vials, he removed the needle and hurried over someplace behind Acadia that she couldn't see. She occupied herself watching the little red trail fall down her arm before the hole repaired itself, leaving a crimson streak on her tan skin. Leaning her head back on the cold metal platform she was strapped to, her mind raced with desperate thoughts of rescue or escape.

"That will take some time, so what shall we do next?" The crazy in the white lab coat asked. Acadia growled, her chest rumbling with the threatening noise, but didn't speak. "Fine, I suppose I can choose. Let's see how strong you really are…"

He let the sentence trail off as he busied himself with a clipboard. Then, catching the attention of someone behind Acadia's vision, he beckoned the person over.

To the feral's disdain, it was the guard that had transported to the lab. He smirked and fastened the thin collar around her neck. It wasn't long before her vision was spotted with black and she was scrambling for air. That was when the scientist and guard decided that it was safe to untie her.

The guard held Acadia's clawed hands behind her like before and steered her out of the lab. They followed the scientist a short distance down the hall before he unlocked a door to his left, leading Acadia through to a spacious octagonal room. The walls seemed to have a sort of paneling on them, with occasional bare places where there were cavities in the wall. There was also an observation platform, reached by a steep staircase against one wall. The scientist climbed the stairs and locked himself in the observation room. Acadia could see him take a seat on the other side of the window.

The guard still held her hands tightly behind her back, and Acadia was wondering where the guard was going to go once he released her. She could spin around and attack him without too much trouble once she could breathe, but there had to be a catch. There was always a catch.

The guard untied her wrists. But before she could swipe at him with her claws, he had—in one swift movement—removed the choker and tazed Acadia between the shoulders. Before he bolted for the staircase, he kicked her feet out from under her. She hit the ground hard on her side, and waited for her muscles to stop spasming as she listened to the guard's retreating footsteps.

"Damn…" She cursed under her breath as she staggered to her feet. Her back and shoulder muscles relaxed, but she still felt jolted and on edge from the electricity.

"This is the simulation room," the familiar voice of the scientist boomed over an intercom. "We want to test your strength, reflexes, and other qualities. But, you see, we already know that you can overpower any human we put against you, even armed. So, a friend of Marx's will gauge your abilities for us."

Acadia saw someone stand up on the other side of the window, but they were turned away, so she could only see a rugged profile. The mystery man exchanged a few words with the other people in the room and then strode over to the staircase. The door opened, and Acadia couldn't stop a growl from resonating through her. Her fangs poked at the inside of her lower lip angrily.

Victor nonchalantly made his way down the steps. He smirked crookedly at Acadia, enjoying the fierce reaction at seeing him. His own claws protruded from his fingers as he saw Acadia's do the same. "We meet again," Victor said with false amiability. "How've you been?"

"Why do you care?" Acadia spat, taking a couple steps back as Victor reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, don't worry, I don't. But, I'm not here to make small talk." He half spoke, half growled.

"Doesn't seem like a very fair fight," Acadia said, "You're twice my age and size."

Victor laughed. "I'm more than just twice you age." He tensed suddenly, springing forward and landing in a great bound on his clawed hands. Acadia braced herself and bared her teeth as Victor leaped from the ground and collided with her, pushing her off her feet.

They flew back through the air like that, before Victor shoved away from Acadia and let her slam into the wall. The impact made her vision fill with spots as she landed on her knees. She took the opportunity that Victor was giving her and glanced up at where he was. He stood a few feet in front of her, watching. Acadia pounced at him, hitting him on his broad chest. She used her claws to latch onto his shoulders and sank her teeth through his coat. Her fangs buried themselves in the flesh of his shoulder and her claws tore at his chest.

He grabbed her waist and tried to throw her aside, but Acadia stayed put, barely. Victor raked his own claws across her stomach and waist, and then shoved her off of his chest. She flew to the ground, landing on her side. She felt a rib crush upon impact. She winced and laid still while it mended, and then worked to her feet.

"Getting tired?" Victor teased, smiling sardonically.

Acadia hissed at him in response, lunging again. Victor side-stepped, but not before Acadia reached out with her claws and slashed across his face and throat. Enraged, Victor spun around, grabbing Acadia by the throat. She struggled against his chokehold for an agonizing moment before he shoved her back against the wall.

"You've got potential, but you still have a lot to learn," Victor told her, his trademark smirk present on his face. With one last shove against the wall, he went and picked her up by her shirt once more. "It's a shame you couldn't learn any of this earlier, then maybe you'd have a chance." He opened his mouth to say something more, but his brow furrowed in confusion. Victor inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. He looked even more confused, before his eyes widened and his grip loosened. He stared at Acadia in disbelief before he turned on his heel and left her there.

Acadia's vision was tinged red, but her anger was suppressed by the humiliating defeat. She was usually the winner in fights. But she had never fought someone like that... she'd never faced another feral.

Victor strode through thick doors that opened for him, and Acadia glared at his retreating back. She got sick satisfaction from the deep holes in the shoulder of his trench coat, and the gashes that left it as shreds.

"Hmm… I wonder why he left so quickly. I need to speak with him," The mad scientist pondered as he descended the staircase. He ran a hand through his wildly unkempt hair and looked over his notes. Then he looked back up again, his eyes resting on Acadia. "Well, we can't leave you like that. We have to take care of the things with value, don't we?"

Acadia wasn't sure of what he meant before she saw herself. She was covered in blood, some dried and some not, and her clothes were ruined. "I'm sure we could find you some standard issue clothing." He went on, muttering mostly to himself, "No, no, the General would not be pleased if I didn't cater to his new pet… as much as I don't think she deserves it."

Acadia growled. He talked like no one could hear him but himself. Then again, he probably didn't know he was speaking aloud. It was still annoying, though. Before she could give it much thought, though, Acadia felt a pinch on the front of her shoulder, accompanied by the uncomfortable darkness of being sedated.

**And Victor knows! :O LOL, review please!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the wait, I'm having school troubles. Once we get out for summer break it will be easier to write, I promise!**

Acadia woke up in her chain link cell. The overhead lights in the kennel were on, and she could see all the other caged mutants around her. She also noticed that she was wearing different clothes, and ignored the question of how she got into them. She was wearing a loose, dark green tee shirt and black cargo pants. She was still barefoot, which didn't bother her.

Remembering that she wasn't here alone, she spun around and searched the cage next to hers. It was empty, and the door was hanging ajar. Acadia stood up and walked to the front of her cage, peering down the walkway to the front doors. As she watched, they swung open, revealing an escort of soldiers surrounding a hulking figure. She recognized the mess of dirty blond hair and robust features of Piotr.

Once Piotr was locked in his cell, and the soldiers were gone, Acadia faced him and asked, "Are you okay?"

Piotr nodded once, wincing. "They ran a few tests, drew blood, that sort of thing. I had to run for a long time while they took notes. This place is nuts."

Acadia didn't have to voice her agreement. She nodded and sat down on the concrete floor, crossing her legs. There were a few moments of silence before Piotr spoke up again. "Do you think they'll feed us?"

Before Acadia could say anything, the same voice from the night before interjected from across the walkway. "Don't bet on it. They barely ever come through here with food. They make it a reward."

Both Acadia and Piotr turned to seek out the owner of the voice. It was the same man as before, only now he was visible. He was scrawny, with light blond hair and fair skin. He was lying on his side with his knees curled up halfway to his bare chest. He only had a pair of ripped shorts on, and he shook from exposure to the frigid air.

Acadia could now see that he was mutated and hunched over, but the bulging shadow she had seen was actually a set of feathery wings. They were folded tightly to his back and attached at his shoulder blades. It was probably at least a twenty foot wing span.

"Who are you?" Acadia asked him. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and feebly opened his magnificent white wings.

"You can call me Archangel," The man said, smirking slightly.

"For Christ's sake, Xavier, when are we going to rescue them?" Logan demanded. He was leaning over the professor's desk, struggling to keep his voice down.

"Soon," Charles attempted to reassure him, "I have already spoken with Kayla. She told me everything she knows about the base, and, combined with what you three learned while you were there, you should be able to retrieve the children they took in a couple of days."

"A couple of days?" Logan growled incredulously. Storm, who was standing close by, visibly jumped. Jean and Scott were silent.

Xavier took a deep breath, pausing before answering. "You can't go in there with guns blazing," He explained curtly, "You have to have some semblance of a plan. You won't do anyone any good if you get captured yourself."

Logan mumbled something incoherent under his breath. Storm attempted to pull the attention away from the feral's fiery temper. "Do you have any ideas?"

"As a matter of fact," The professor began, staring pointedly at Logan, "I do. But four won't be enough; you'll need to take a couple of the older students, the ones who have already had some training."

"Without Piotr, that leaves Bobby, John, and Rogue," Jean told the group. "I'll go and tell them to be ready to leave within the next couple of days."

Xavier waved as she left, and then continued speaking to the remaining mutants. "The last time you were at that base, most of its inhabitants had been here, kidnapping our students. That's why it was so easy to rescue Kayla." He shook his head and continued, "It won't be the same. It's going to be much more difficult.

"At the upper level of the base is a hangar. Storm could use her powers to break it open and clear the level. Then, from there, work your way down to where they keep the mutants—that's on the second level from the bottom, out of four."

"Sounds good, chief." Logan said, sanding his hands together. "When do we leave?"

"Give me another day to work things out, and we'll go from there. I don't want to send you to your deaths."

Logan nodded, scowling, and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him. "Damn," Scott muttered, "What's got him all worked up? He's been acting like something's stuck up his ass ever since he got here." Jean, who had returned, gave him a warning look, Storm peered out the window intently, and Xavier tried to suppress a knowing smile.

Logan stormed out of the office and down the empty hall. Most of the students wouldn't be up on the main level for the next couple of days, while the damage from the attack was fixed. There was just enough on the lower level dorms for a few days, but they couldn't stay in that crammed space for long. Of course, there were some rooms still intact, and the older students could stay there. Logan had insisted on keeping his room, which hadn't been affected by the invaders. He took the stairs two at a time. He didn't know what he would do once he got there, but he didn't want to be around anyone.

To his surprise, Kayla was in the hall when he reached the landing. She glanced his way and smiled at him. His thoughts slowed and, belatedly, his mouth curved up in response. "What did the professor say?" Kayla asked when Logan reached her.

"We leave in the next couple of days," He answered, scowling. Her question brought up angry thoughts he had been trying to forget a moment ago.

"What's the matter?" She asked him, standing between him and the door to his room.

Logan huffed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know why we can't go any earlier than a couple days," He explained, surprising himself. He didn't usually let people in on his thoughts.

Logan sidestepped, passing Kayla. He had the door to his room open when he felt a petite hand grab onto his forearm, holding him back. Logan turned around to face Kayla again. Before he could ask her what she wanted, she said, "Stop blaming yourself. There isn't anything you could've done—you weren't even here!"

"If I was, this wouldn't have happened." He said curtly before turning on his heel and entered his quarters, not bothering to close the door behind him.

"If you were, I'd probably be dead."

Logan stopped in his tracks. He had never thought of it that way. Sure, he had lost Acadia, but Kayla was right. If she had been there any longer than she actually was, would she even be here now? Acadia's mutation would keep her alive until Logan could rescue her, but Kayla didn't enjoy the same luxury.

Kayla saw the affect her words were having on him and followed him into his room. It was similar to hers; just a simple but refined version of a hotel room. The curtains were drawn over the window on the opposite wall, but the bathroom light illuminated Logan's features as he turned around to face Kayla once more.

He didn't know what to say. She was right—but he wasn't about to admit it.

Instead of using words at all, he advanced forward, until they were only inches away. His memory of the morning after she woke up replayed in his mind, along with the sensation of her lips on his. As much as he wanted that again, he was almost nervous to go any closer than putting his hands gingerly on her waist. Throwing caution to the wind, he moved his hands to her lower back and pulled her closer. She stared up at him for a moment before closing her eyes and letting her arms wrap around his thick neck.

Without a second thought, Logan captured her mouth with his in a kiss. It wasn't like the last two kisses they'd shared, which were last-minute, cautious, and haphazard. This moment felt like it was actually supposed to happen. It was calm and passionate. Kayla let her fingers play with Logan's dark hair as she lost herself in the moment. Logan's hands caressed her lower back and hips, his fingers grazing along her skin.

When they broke apart for air, Kayla rested her face against Logan's chest while he buried his face in her wavy hair, inhaling her scent and imprinting it onto his memory. Even though Kayla was relaxing into the feral's embrace, her mind was reeling. It had been over fifteen years since Logan had kissed her like that, and now she knew how much she truly missed him. A fresh wave of vengeful anger towards Stryker came over her for a moment for the loss of Logan's memories. She felt sorry for him because he couldn't see all of the things she could when she thought of them together.

When she thought of him, she thought of all the nights they had spent together and all the time they had shared. When he thought of her, she could only imagine that he saw what she was now, which was fifteen years older than before and the mother of a teenage feral.

Little did she know, her assumption was completely false.

Acadia lost track of time in the windowless hell where she was being held captive. At what she assumed was morning, the insane scientist, whom was only known as the scientist to the mutants, would come into the giant room holding all the mutants. He would walk down the aisle, eyeing each hostage with an awful smirk. Usually, though, he settled on Acadia or Piotr.

This 'morning' was a bit different. The scientist stormed down the hall, scowling. He had two guards with him instead of one. Stopping at Acadia's cage, he motioned for the guards to retrieve her. She didn't bother to fight them, but only let them tie the thin cord around her windpipe and lead her out by her bound wrists. The scientist was staring at her with more caution than usual.

They arrived at the lab, and she was strapped to the main table. Once they allowed her to breathe again, she stretched her neck and asked, "What could you possibly want now? Are you curious about my internal organs, because I think they are pretty much the same as yours," She added sarcastically.

The scientist straightened his coat and glared at her, before replying, "The initial test results were… inconclusive. We need more blood."

Acadia's eyebrows fell together over her eyes in confusion. "What do you mean by inconclusive?"

"I mean exactly what I say, we need new information," He said without looking at her. Without warning, he poked the needle into her arm and began filling vials. Acadia tried to shake away the lightheadedness of loosing blood, but her vision began to disobey her and her head swam.

When the needle left her arm and the scientist stowed the vials, he gestured for the guards to join him once more. "Take her back to her cell. And increase the voltage."

The guards did as instructed, dragging Acadia back to her cage. Before they left the kennel, they turned the dial next to the lock on her door. She heard a buzzing noise sound all around her, and she knew her hair would stand on end if she went anywhere near the sides of her cage.

Piotr was in his cell when she returned. "What did they do to you now?" He asked through clenched teeth. Being confined and kept like a pet wasn't doing any good for his temper.

"Just needed more blood," She answered, rubbing her temples as a headache flared. "They said the test results were inconclusive or something."

Piotr nodded slowly, and was about to say something more when they heard someone else enter the conversation.

"They're lying to you."

Both Acadia and Piotr looked across the aisle to Archangel, who was sitting in the center of his cage, stretching his arms and wings over his head. "How would you know?" Acadia asked him, narrowing her eyes.

"Blood results are difficult to mess up, why would they increase the voltage on your cage? They know something you don't, and they don't want it getting around." Archangel explained, shaking his wings slightly. A handful of powder-white feathers fell to the concrete floor.

"Angel, your wings!" Acadia pointed to the feathers, alarmed.

He followed her finger and stared down at the giant feathers resting on the ground by his knees. His expression went cold, but his voice stayed even when he said, "Well, that's what malnutrition does to you."

"This is ridiculous!" Piotr shouted. "How can they leave us here to rot, and only visit us when they want to run experiments on us? If people knew about this—"

"People will never know about this," Archangel interrupted, "The beauty of government is that they can cover anything up. And they're on the general's side, not ours. Apparently, we are a danger to society."

"That's such bullshit!" Piotr exclaimed, standing up. Acadia stood up as well, careful not to approach the sides of her cage. Piotr started pacing. "I'll get every single one of them!"

"Piotr," Acadia began, but it was too late. His skin was becoming silver as he clenched and unclenched his fists. When his body was completely metallic, he punched with all his strength at his cage's door. The reinforced material bent around the force of his hit, but didn't break. This time, Piotr threw his shoulder into it, throwing the entire out of its hinges.

Once he was out, Piotr risked a glance to the door, which was still closed. Then he went to Acadia's cell and broke off the dial that controlled the electricity. Without missing a beat, he grabbed the cage door and yanked it off as well. Acadia sprinted out and followed Piotr down the aisle. But after a few seconds, she stopped running. "Piotr, hold on!"

Piotr watched anxiously as Acadia ran back to their now empty cells. She stood in front of Archangel's cage and raked her claws down the middle of his door. He leapt up, his mouth hanging agape. "Are you insane? You're going to get slaughtered!"

Acadia finished ripping a hole in the door, before she smirked at him and motioned for him to follow. Angel's eyes widened in fear, but he climbed through the hole and ran after the other two mutants.

Piotr was the first to reach the reinforced door leading to the maze of hallways. He punched it, kicked it, rammed it, and kneed it, but it would only dent. Angel was barely any use to them; he was malnourished and weak. Acadia stepped up to try and free them. She put all of her pent-up fury of being a captive behind her clawed hand as it made contact with the huge door. Her bone talons sunk into the metal and ripped through it, only to reveal and interior to the door and another piece of steel.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded from above their heads. Speakers were blaring a warning, telling soldiers to report to the containment cells. "Shit!" Acadia cursed, but then she noticed something she hadn't before. Piotr was still silver. He was still in his metal alloy form. "Piotr, have you been silver this whole time?"

Piotr nodded, but then seemed to catch on to what she was saying. He looked at his hands in surprise.

The moment went away quickly, though, when the mangled door slid open to reveal a handful of armed soldiers. They instantly sedated Angel, who tried to feebly lift his wings for protection. Piotr smirked and charged at them. They tried to shoot him, but the darts bounced off of his armor. He took down a few of them, before the metallic coating started disappearing. "Piotr, look out!" Acadia shouted. She was the first to notice.

Her yell alerted the guards, and one of them drew a knife from his boot. He swiped furiously at the huge boy, making hissing sounds whenever he scratched the alloyed-coated part of Piotr. Finally, though, he struck with the blade and it sunk into Piotr's forearm. He grunted and grasped his arm, returning to his normal state. Another guard sunk a tranquilizer into the back of his other shoulder, sending him to the ground.

Meanwhile, a couple of guards had made it past Piotr and were in front of Acadia. She growled, her lip pulling back to show her fangs. The guards didn't respond. She ran a few steps and leaped into the air, landing on one man square in the chest. She clawed through his uniform and tore at his neck. He fell into a pool of his own blood as Acadia moved onto the other soldier.

Before she could attack him, though, there was a resounding bang. It echoed through the high-ceilinged room and, before Acadia could turn around, she was struck by an invisible force. She fell to the ground on her stomach. Pain was radiating from her right shoulder, where it felt like someone was pressing through it with a piping hot rod. She distantly felt something thick coat her back and cover the floor under her blood. As her vision came and went, her nose recognized it as blood. _Her _blood.

It wasn't a dart. It didn't feel like she had been struck with a needle. It felt like a blunt piece of shrapnel had torn through the upper half of her body and was draining her of life. Air became difficult to get as she choked on her own blood. Acadia felt herself being pulled from the ground and dragged up the steps into the hallway. Her shoulder burned and throbbed with every movement. Before she went unconscious, she heard a familiar, sly voice say, "Hmm, I'll keep in mind that bullets work well on you. They aren't so effective on your superiors—maybe it's because you aren't fully mature yet."

When Acadia woke up, she wasn't in her cell. She was in a concrete room, only about ten square feet. The door, which was also concrete, had a bared window on it. As she came back to consciousness, she noticed the dank stench, the slight dripping of water from afar, and the gritty, damp floor beneath her. She was sprawled across the ground, her head resting on her arm. As she moved and pushed herself up, her right shoulder protested and tightened. She winced, running her fingers over the skin of her back through her ripped shirt. There was a long scar along her shoulder blade. It was still fresh, puckered and sensitive to the touch.

"We had to open you up to remove the bullet," She heard a voice from behind the door say. It echoed slightly in the tiny concrete cell. "While we did, we did some other things. But that isn't important."

Acadia took her hand away from her shoulder and spun around, glaring through the darkness at the barred window. General Marx stood smirking on the other side. "Welcome back, we weren't sure when you were going to wake up."

Acadia just growled at him and staggered to her feet. "You really don't have anywhere to escape to down here. We abandoned these cells a while ago because of the conditions."

"Then why am I down here?" Acadia asked, running a hand through her tangled, wavy hair.

Marx chuckled before saying, "We've underestimated you, my dear—or, more accurately, you and your friend. We had no idea that under certain circumstances he could maintain his armor." Then, to himself, he mumbled, "That will require more study."

"Then again, when I got wind of Dr. Drayson's discovery, I would expect no less of you. By nature and lineage, you are a force to be reckoned with."

Acadia stared at him quizzically. "What the hell does that mean?" She asked, taking a tentative step towards Marx.

Marx only smiled deviously at her. "Oh, it's nothing of importance to you. If you didn't know it already, then you might not be supposed to know."

Acadia snarled, "Tell me, damn it! You and your damn riddles are driving me insane!"

Marx ignored her command and changed the subject. "I have one last proposition for you, before I turn you over to Dr. Drayson and his associates. I would hate to see your abilities go to waste like that, so I have decided to extend to you a position on my special ops team."

Acadia was silent for a moment. "What's the catch?"

Marx raised his eyebrows incredulously. "There's no catch. You simply answer to me. You go on missions when I command."

"Sounds like I'd be your work dog, doing everything that would get you manicured nails dirty," Acadia spat at him, narrowing her eyes. "I refuse."

Marx sighed. "Well, suit yourself. This is the last time I will probably see you. The next time anyone sees you will be when Dr. Drayson and his… friends… come get you to see what you're made of—female ferals are quite rare, you know. Are you sure that is your decided fate?"

Acadia saw what he was doing. He was making himself seem like the angel, when in reality no choice was any better than the other. "I'll take my chances."

"My, you are brave," Was all he had to say before he disappeared from view, leaving Acadia wondering if she had made the correct choice.

It didn't matter, anyways. She would be rescued soon. Acadia kept replaying that assurance in her head as she returned to lying on the damp concrete. She closed her eyes against the oppressive darkness of her new cell and retreated into her mind. She found solace in her memories.

"_Acadia, why is the Moon so lonely?" Kayla asked her one night as she was tucking her into bed. She was only about five, but her hair was as still wild and long as it was when she was sixteen._

_She turned her dark eyes to her mother, who was sitting on the edge of her bed. "Why?" She asked, sitting up. Her mother smiled at her and pulled her legs onto the bed, crossing them. Acadia crawled into her lap, and Kayla hugged her to her chest._

"_Because she was in love," Kayla told her._

_Acadia pulled her head away from Kayla's shoulder and looked at her mother with childish surprise. "Really?"_

_Kayla chuckled and said, "Really. His name was Kuekuatsu. And every night, they would wander the skies together." Both Acadia and her mother looked out the window in unison at the clear night, where the bright moon was casting a glow in the valleys between the mountains. Kayla returned her attention to her daughter and continued the story. "But one of the other spirits, Trickster, was jealous, and wanted the moon for himself."_

_Acadia's young face filled with horror at the thought. "So he told Kuekuatsu that the Moon had asked for flowers—he told him to come to our world and pick her some wild roses. But Kuekuatsu didn't know that once you leave the spirit world, you can never go back."_

"_What happened next?" Acadia asked eagerly. "He didn't pick the roses, did he?"_

_Kayla just smiled sadly at her and said, "He did. So every night, he looks up into the sky and sees the Moon and howls her name. But… he can never be with her again."_

_After Kayla tucked her in and shut off the light, Acadia laid awake in her bed, staring out the window at the full moon, pitying its loneliness in the night sky._

**This is all I have so far, i thought I'd give you plenty in case of a delayed next chapter. Things are starting to come together! :D**


	17. Chapter 17

**I... Am... SOOOOOOOO SSORRYYY for not uploading sooner! My summer has been bat-shit crazy! :P I feel awful. I haven't updated any of my stories... and, even worse, I have an idea for Red Dead Redemption that is screaming to be put on paper, or, well, document file. But I won't start it until all of my current stories are updated. I'm posting everything I have to make up for the time lapse. Again, so sorry...**

Logan led three mutant teenagers behind him through the hallways in the base under Xavier's school. He stopped them in front of the glass cases holding their uniforms, where Scott was waiting for them. He gave the other man a curt nod before continuing down the hall. Scott started to follow him, shouting, "Aren't you going to suit up?"

Logan smirked and continued walking; no way in hell was he wearing one of those suits again. His jeans and muscle shirt were just as good—and more comfortable. He made it to the hangar, where a low hum was emanating from the sleek jet inside. Logan warily stepped onto the plane, briefly acknowledging Storm at the controls. He sat in one of the jet's seats and waited for everyone else to board the plane.

They were finally leaving. Finally, he was going to rescue Acadia—along with the other children that were taken.

Logan let out an impatient sigh when the rest of the team entered the jet. "Who lit the fire under your ass?" Scott asked sarcastically, seating himself as far away from Logan as possible.

Logan only growled a response, ignoring the nervousness rising in his chest when the jet lifted from the ground and shot forward. His head started to slowly throb.

Rogue wasn't helping his aggravated condition any while she talked. "There's really no need to worry about flying, Logan," She told him matter-of-factly, "This jet is nearly impossible to stop. I mean, what are the odds that an engine fails and we fall to the ground?"

Logan only groaned and leaned his head against the back of his seat. It was going to be a long flight.

The team had decided that while it would be easier to enter the base at the hangar on the top level, the more strategic way would be to enter the way they had the time before. They already knew what to expect in that part of the base, and had a good idea of how to retrieve the children quickly.

When Storm landed the jet, Logan was, not surprisingly, the first ready to disembark. She hid a smirk at the tough feral's fear of flying and opened the door. Once everyone had exited, Storm cloaked the plane and led the group a little ways off into the trees.

"Stick to the plan," She warned, staring pointedly at Logan, who scoffed in response. "We are only here for the abducted students.

"Johnny, go with Logan. Scott, you take Marie with you. Bobby will go with me."

Johnny moved to stand next to Logan, fiddling with his flip lighter. Rogue and Iceman reluctantly parted and joined their respective buddies. "Alright," Logan said, clapping his hands together with finality, "Let's go."

The X-Team hiked along next to the road, aware that it would be under surveillance. Logan led, aware of the pyromaniac trailing after him. They reached the perimeter of the base, marked by a tall chain link fence and warning signs.

"Hold on a minute," Storm said. Her eyes clouded over, and suddenly the wind picked up. Dark clouds gathered above in the sky as a tornado ripped through the yard surrounding the base's entrance. A few startled shouts and cries of pain echoed from the guards standing watch, but by the time the sky cleared everything was silent.

"Alright, it should be clear. Scott, you go first to take out any security cameras left still working," Storm instructed when her eyes returned to their original darkness. Scott nodded and walked along the fence towards the road.

"It seems to be all clear," Scott called back, entering the yard through the ripped fence. Logan stood by, watching the rest enter before he followed. He scanned the horizon with his dark eyes narrowed, steeling himself for the battle ahead.

Logan led Johnny through the halls of the base, silencing any guard that they came across. They could move about without fear of being watched by their enemy; Storm had found the surveillance room and had taken control of the cameras. That also shed light on where the children were being held.

Johnny followed Logan closely, his finger running over the lighter in his hand over and over, memorizing the warm metal. Suddenly, Logan stopped, and Johnny almost ran into his back. "This way, kid," Logan told him under his breath, pointing down a different hall. They followed it for a while before Logan stopped again. A door appeared on their left that looked like it had been hastily patched together. It was the door that Logan had ripped apart the last time he came on a rescue mission. "They should be in here," Logan said over his shoulder, unleashing his metal claws on the door.

It was barely hanging from its hinges when Logan finally stepped through into the room on the other side. Johnny followed suit, staring at the mangled door with fearful awe. He quickened his pace down the aisle between huge chain link cages, each housing a person. The people in the cells were frail and neglected, and Johnny fixed his eyes on Logan's back to keep them from staring at the horror.

Logan scoured each cell, and in the cages farthest from the door he found the handful of kids that had been taken. He ripped apart each cell door, pulling the children free. He glanced around to make sure that everyone was safe, and his eyes stopped on all the cages filling the room. Copious amounts of mutants were harbored here, and it would be criminal to leave them. But where would they go? Charles's school barely had the room for its current inhabitants because of the damage caused by the attack. They could all squeeze in, but how would Xavier feel about Logan bringing back countless numbers of starved mutants?

He never did like asking first and acting later. "Take the kids to the jet, Johnny."

"What about you?" Johnny asked in confusion.

"I'll be fine. Get them the hell out of here."

Johnny's brow furrowed, but he obliged. He herded the group of students out of the door and down the hallway, alert at every sound. Logan stayed where he was.

A voice next to him made Logan jump, and he turned to identify the speaker. It was a mutant in the cage to his left. He seemed to be a young adult with light blond hair and massive white wings sprouting from his shoulders. "You're here for the girl, aren't you?"

Logan narrowed his eyes and stepped up to the cage's door. "What's it to you?"

"Well, I know her and the other boy are no longer here. They have been moved to another part of the base—one with higher security."

"How would you know this? Who the hell are you?" Logan asked, wary.

"I'm Archangel, pleased to make your acquaintance," The man looked up and met Logan's questioning stare. "I have been dragged around every part of this hell, and I have a good idea of where they're keeping them. I will help you, on one condition."

"Oh?" Logan raised his eyebrows. "And what is that, exactly?"

Archangel stood up and raised himself to his full height. "Let all of us go."

Without another word, Logan shredded the door of Archangel's cage. He stepped back, his chest slightly heaving, and mumbled, "I was planning on doing that, anyways."

Archangel leaped out of his cell and stretched his arms over his head. As he did so, his wings fanned out, stretching up as well. "Good god, that cage is so cramped. I haven't gotten the blood to rush in my wings for too long."

"Yeah, you're welcome. Now let's go," Logan told him brusquely. With one look at the aisle of cages, he took off running with his arms outstretched. His claws raked through each cell that he passed, pulling the door open.

Acadia was awoken by the sound of a key being jammed into the lock on her door. She bolted upright, her eyes fixed on the source of the noise. The heavy concrete door swung open, revealing two guards. She braced herself for them to subdue her, but, instead, one pointed his gun and fired. Acadia snarled at the cold steel dart in her leg before collapsing to the ground and falling unconscious.

Instead of fighting her way through a haze to come back to consciousness, Acadia was started awake. Her body jumped and her eyes flew open as she tried to catch her breath. She tensed her muscles, only to find that she couldn't move. Well, she could, but it was restrained. As her mind began to rationalize, she felt the bindings on her wrists, ankles, and across her chest. She also noticed she was facing a ceiling dotted with fluorescent lights.

"Welcome to the world of the living, my dear," A man's voice said lightly from her left.

Acadia turned her head to see Dr. Drayson, as the general had called him, leaning over a table of menacing instruments.

"How did you come across this, doctor?" Another voice asked, surprised.

"She was found in Canada, of all places. Then again, it was where we found the other feral that was so successful."

"That crazed experiment of Stryker's? What did he call it… Weapon X, am I right?" The other voice sounded again, but Acadia couldn't see its owner.

"Yes, that very one," Dr. Drayson confirmed.

"But that was a fool's quest. That mutant went A-WOL as soon as he was turned into the most powerful being on the face of the planet! Do you really expect this to go any better?"

"Stryker was a fool!" Drayson countered, turning on the other speaker with more anger than Acadia had seen before. "They made the mistake of putting trust in the Wolverine. I will not be so naïve."

"So, you're making another indestructible feral? Just fill her up with metal? She's not even done growing!"

"That is the farthest thing from what I am preparing to do. The first and most important thing is gaining a clean slate. We will build from there. You can't build a city on ruins." Dr. Drayson explained, turning back to Acadia.

There was a long silence. Footsteps sounded towards the foot of Acadia's table, and then there was the sound of shuffling papers. "So this test isn't a scam? I don't trust Marx's word on anything."

"Of course it isn't! When we received the first results, I couldn't believe it myself. We took another blood sample, but it was the exact same. This feral is, in fact, Weapon X's child."

Acadia tried to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. Her father was some experiment? And not just that, a feral filled with metal… for some reason, that made alarm bells flash in her racing but groggy mind.

"What the fuck is Weapon X?" Acadia mumbled, trying to piece together jagged facts and thoughts.

Dr. Drayson turned to stare at her, and so did the other man, bringing him into view. He was middle-aged with graying blond hair and bright green eyes. He was wearing a government uniform with straight shoulders and covered with badges. There was a look of astonishment on his face as he stared in Acadia's direction.

"Have you not heard our conversation?" Drayson asked with mock surprise. "Weapon X—better known as the Wolverine by other mutants—is an extremely successful mutant that lost control and escaped the military."

"But what is all this about my dad? My mom told me he got the hell out of dodge as soon as he found out about me." Well, that wasn't how she had worded it, but it was the same concept.

Dr. Drayson clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Quite the contrary. Your father was nothing of the sort," He told her, not trying to hide the admiration in his voice. Then his expression turned bitter and he added, "Too smart and strong for his own good, though."

Acadia was silent after that, letting her head rest on the table she was strapped to. She had always thought hearing about her father would answer her endless questions. As it turned out, she only had more to ask and less to piece together. Dr. Drayson continued speaking with the military man, but Acadia's mind didn't process the words.

Archangel led Logan through the maze of hallways, hopefully in the right direction. He had put trust in the winged mutant to help him find Acadia, which was a surprise in itself. Archangel had also assured him that the other mutants could find their way out while they went searching for the young feral.

"After their rampage, they were moved, like I said," Archangel explained as they went, "I'm guessing to the containment cells near the labs."

"Who is this 'they'? I only came here for Acadia," Logan whispered back after they had fought their way past a few guards.

"Well the girl, obviously, and the boy with her. They're about the same age, but the boy is built like a brick fortress. Speaks with an accent."

"Piotr?" Logan clarified, mildly guilty that he had completely forgotten that the teenager had been abducted.

"I guess," Archangel shrugged, ruffling his feathered wings.

"_Logan, can you hear me?" _A voice asked right in Logan's ear. He started with surprise and put his hand to the side of his head; he had completely forgotten about the ear piece he had in.

"Uh, yeah, I can. What's up?" Logan spoke into the transmitter and stopped walking. Archangel turned around at the sound of him talking and stared at him quizzically before noticing the transmitter.

"_Bobby and I found the headquarters for the security cameras,"_ Storm told him, _"And I know where you are, too. Who is that with you?"_

"Long story, just tell me where to go."

"_Well, you've been on the right track so far. Keep following that hall and you'll see the cells where Piotr is being held. Acadia isn't in her cell; she's in a lab room not far away, though."_

"Sounds good, let me know if anything changes," Logan told her and didn't wait for a reply before shutting off his microphone. He turned his attention back to Archangel. "So you _do_ know where you're going. Good, it wouldn't turn out so well if you'd been lying."

"I have nothing to gain from lying," Archangel explained, continuing down the hall. "What was that all about?"

"Some of my team has control of the cameras—told me where Piotr and Acadia are."

"Right where I said they would be," Archangel confirmed smugly.

Sure enough, the hallway turned into a row of heavily enforced containment cells. Logan checked each one down the line before the hulking shadow of a familiar face caught his eye. "Piotr," He called through the barred window in the door. The boy looked up, grinning at the sight of Logan.

Logan smashed the locks and ripped the door open, allowing Piotr to enter the hallway. "Glad you finally made it," Piotr said, grinning.

Logan wasted no time asking, "Where's Acadia?"

Piotr's eyes darkened with anger and his brow furrowed. "They took her from her cell a while ago. I'm not sure where, though."

"Storm says she's in one of the labs," Logan explained, setting off at a jog down the hallway. Piotr followed, easily matching his pace.

The hallway led to a flight of stairs, which Logan took two at a time. About halfway to the lower floor, he picked up a familiar scent in his nostrils. His pace quickened and he followed the scent trail.

Archangel and Piotr followed a ways back. "The lab rooms are up ahead," Archangel called to him, "Through the door on the left."

A door appeared on the left wall. Logan cut the lock and carefully opened the door. Inside was another hallway, one with only a door on the right. The door was clear glass, and on the other side was a lab room.

Logan plastered himself to the wall so as not to be seen. He edged towards the door to find it was open a tiny sliver, enough so that he could eavesdrop.

"…When we received the first results, I couldn't believe it myself. We took another blood sample, but it was the exact same. This feral is, in fact, Weapon X's child."

Logan pressed himself against the wall even further, listening on more. Weapon X… it sounded so familiar. He felt like he should know that term inside out. Instead of dwelling on it, though, he continued to listen to the conversation going on inside the lab.

He heard Wolverine mentioned—mentioned in the same context as Weapon X. Logan wasn't stupid, the pieces were already fitting themselves together. He was the Wolverine, the name he had from another life that he couldn't remember. The Wolverine was Weapon X, a feral experimented on by the government, meant to become a lethal soldier. Weapon X was Acadia's father.

Logan's knees nearly buckled.

**Is the way it turned out okay? I mulled over so many different scenarios, but this seemed like the best one to help carry on the story. So yeah, I love reviews. :D Thanks for being so patient with me.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Okay. I have no excuses for waiting this long to update. I just hope I still have readers. Life got complicated, and I lost my inspiration and will to write for a long time. This was also a tough scene for me to write, I have no idea why. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless.**

The Wolverine let himself rest his back against the wall for a moment. How was this possible? He had no idea. A month ago, if someone had told him he had _any_ family at all, he would have laughed and walked away. Now, suddenly, he had a daughter? That was a little too much to process.

As much as Logan wanted to stand there and sort through his thoughts, he was running out of time. He was still on a mission. Thinking quickly, he devised a way to get Acadia freed from the two men standing over her.

"The only thing standing in the way of this is her memory. If we erase it, we gain control," Logan heard Dr. Drayson say. "But we can't achieve that the same way Stryker had finally managed on his failure. Her body won't fully recover from a bullet to the head."

The talk of erasing Acadia's memory pushed Logan even further to losing control. He knew what it was like being on the other end of that deal, and it wasn't fun. He squeezed his eyes shut and took in a deep breath. In the next second, he spun away from the wall and through the doorway into the lab room.

Both men looked up in shock, and the military man standing near the far wall reached for his gun. Dr. Drayson was standing over Acadia with an intimidating-looking syringe about to make contact with her temple, and she was trying to inch away from it. Logan approached the table, his hands clenched into fists. Drayson narrowed his eyes before Logan punched him square in the nose. At the last second, his claws extended, smashing through skin and bone with perfected hostility. Drayson fell, and his disfigured countenance began to leak his lifeblood onto the white floor.

At the sound of two fired shots, Logan was knocked backwards and his back made contact with the wall. The man in uniform was looking past his smoking gun, and his eyes grew wide with fear when Logan simply shrugged away from the wall and the wounds began to close. All it took was a glare and an infuriated snarl from Logan, and he dropped his gun. Logan made his way around the table and drove his claws up under the man's ribs, letting him slump to the floor.

He stood over the last body for a split second before turning on his heel and rushing over to where Acadia was still detained. "You cut it a little close, don't you think, Logan?" Acadia muttered sarcastically as he undid the straps.

"Well, I'm here now," He answered, ignoring his newfound knowledge as much as he could. Acadia sat up after most of the straps were undone and reached for the ones around her legs. To her dismay, her hands were shaking terribly. The fear-induced adrenaline was still being pumped through her veins. Her trembles were not unnoticed by Logan. "Don't have many near-death experiences?" He asked and glanced at her, smirking.

Acadia narrowed her eyes at him. "No. Let's just get out of here."

Acadia followed Logan out of the lab room and down the hallways. Piotr was waiting, keeping watch. A small pile of unconscious guards littered the ground around him. His eyes shifted restlessly and his chest heaved. When he saw Logan and Acadia approached, he ran up to them. "Acadia! Are you all right?" He asked with genuine concern. Logan scoffed, trying to ignore the protective anger rising within him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," She was relieved to see him alive as well; being detained in the base had brought them together as close friends. "Let's just get out of here."

"I know the way," Logan declared, just as Archangel did as well. No one had noticed his presence—he leaned against the icy wall with his wings tucked in. Logan clenched his jaw and let the other mutant lead them down the corridor, bringing up the end of the small group. He resisted the urge to insert himself between Acadia and Piotr, who ran side by side behind Archangel.

A ringing sounded in Logan's ear that made him cringe, before it changed into a female voice. _"Logan, can you hear me?"_

He adjusted the microphone and answered, "Yeah, I've got them both. Where are you guys?"

"_Still in the security room. Marx is here, I can see him on the screens. But that's not all—"_

Logan's ear piece flew across the floor as someone made contact with him, tackling him from behind. He slid along the floor, and his head hit the wall first. He heard Storm yelling into the discarded communicator, but he ignored it, raising his infuriated glare up to identify his assailant.

"Hey Jimmy. Leaving so soon?"

Victor sauntered over, putting a well-placed fist on his jaw and sending Logan sprawling to the floor again. "As much as I like knocking you around, that's not what I'm here for," Victor said casually. "I forgot how much fun it was, though," He continued with a fang-baring grin. His expression hardened, though, when he turned on Acadia. "You, young lady, have been causing a lot of trouble, I hear. You and your friend, there," He gestured to Piotr as he spoke.

Logan stood up slowly as Victor talked to Acadia. He unsheathed his claws as quietly as possible. As quick as he could manage, he lunged forward in an attempt to stab Victor through his back. At the very last second, though, Victor dodged by jumping to the side, leaving Logan attacking empty air and throwing off his balance. Victor now crouched next to where he had been and swiped one clawed hand along Logan's back. Logan winced and sucked in a breath at the stinging gashes between his shoulders. While Logan was still trying to regroup, Victor tackled him and they both flew into the wall. They fell to the floor, a tangle of lethal claws and superhuman muscle. "I didn't think of you as a family man, Jimmy," Victor growled as they fought, too low for Acadia to hear them. "What's with the kid?"

"Just found out, myself," Logan grunted, not wanting to discuss anything while they fought, let alone that.

"She must be out of that little Indian, then. She's sixteen, right?" Victor pondered as he threw Logan into a wall. "That's put her right about the time of the Weapon X incident."

At the mention of Weapon X, memories and images were conjured up in Logan's mind. He couldn't recognize them fully, but the emotions remained. The visions that flew through his shattered mind left him with an untamable anger. His vision turned red as he once again set his sights on his brother from another life.

Victor had seen that look before. He'd provoked his little brother enough times in the past to know what it meant for him.

Throughout their fight, Acadia had made her way over to Piotr. They stood watching the brutal fight, as gore spattered the ground and walls. Acadia noticed them exchanging words but couldn't hear them. It took her a moment to realize that Piotr was shaking her shoulder, trying to get her attention. "Acadia! We have to get out of here. Archangel can lead us."

Piotr was pulling her away. she kept her eyes trained on the two ferals still locked in combat. "He'll be fine, trust me. He always is. It's you they want."

Acadia began to follow them down the hall. She turned back once more, and saw Victor swipe his claws across Logan's chest. Acadia winced reflexively. Then, a glimmer of something flying through the air caught her attention. It landed by her foot. They were dog tags, connected to a broken and bloodied chain. She picked them up and turned them over in her hands. Along with the military jargon about the soldier's blood type and such, one had a single word printed on it: WOLVERINE.

"_Weapon X—better known as the Wolverine by other mutants—is an extremely successful mutant that lost control and escaped the military."_

"_This feral is, in fact, Weapon X's child."_

Dr. Drayson's words echoed in her mind. Weapon X… the Wolverine… they were all just synonyms for Logan. That meant… her mother had some explaining to do.


	19. Chapter 19

**Okay, you don't need to tell me, I know I left you all hanging for a terribly long time. My deepest apologies... I honestly don't know what happened to me. For the longest time I just... couldn't write. I'd sit down and try to make myself, and it just wouldn't come. But here is the newest installment. A sequel is trying to worm it's way into my brain and get my attention, but I've got a handful of chapters left here. I'll stop my rambling and let you enjoy the chapter. XD Also, I was so desperate to get this uploaded it isn't fully proofread.**

Archangel rushed them through the hallways. The walls blurred past Acadia's vision, as did everything else. Nothing was making sense, or even registering. She had checked out the second she picked up those dog tags. Pietr kept sending worried glances her way, but she wasn't even paying enough attention to notice. What she _did_ notice was his hand in hers, leading her towards safety.

"Where are you taking us?" Pietr asked the winged mutant in front of him.

"The control room, that's where Logan's friend said she was," He responded. "Ah," he mumbled, stopping suddenly in front of a set of glass doors, "Here we are."

Pietr and Acadia peered through the glass and saw a dark-skinned woman with a pixie hair cut manning the computers. Pietr's arm turned silver, and before anyone could say anything he punched the door. Glass shattered everywhere, leaving a gaping hole. He then dragged the door against its will along the tracks.

"A little unnecessary, isn't it?" Archangel asked, eyeing Pietr with a mix of astonishment and fear.

Pietr shrugged and led Acadia into the room. The walls were lined with monitors and buttons that flashed and blinked. When he stopped, he waved a hand in front of Acadia's face. "Hello? Are you with us?"

Acadia blinked away her blank stare. "Sorry… I was just… thinking."

Pietr didn't look convinced, but he was prevented from questioning her further by Storm. She had rushed up to them as soon as she heard the door crash. "Oh my God, are you two all right? We were so worried!" She checked them over for injuries, and, once she was satisfied, returned to her seat at the computers. "Johnny and Bobby are with the rest of the rescued on the jet. I'm waiting for Logan."

She noticed Archangel for the first time. "Who's this?"

"I'm Archangel," He introduced, taking a bow with a haughty smile on his face. Storm raised an eyebrow. "I helped them escape, I've been held here for a while."

"Well, you may come back to the school with us if you wish," Storm told him, then smiled and added, "Thank you for your help."

Archangel looked surprised. "School?"

Storm only nodded and returned to the security screens. Archangel stared after her, confused.

"Logan, can you hear me?" Storm practically yelled into her microphone. She nodded a few times before saying, "We have everyone. Johnny is at the jet with the rest of the refugees and students, meet us there." Then she turned around and began ushering the group out the door.

"Hurry," She said, running next to Acadia, "I overheard one of the radio messages—they sent for reinforcements."

They went up stairways and down halls, retracing their steps up to the jet that waited on the top floor of the mountain base. Acadia tried to ignore the worried glances that Pietr was shooting her way as she clutched Logan's—her father's—dog tags in one hand.

It was such a strange thought. She'd fantasized all her life about what her father was like. Was he tall or short? Thin or fat?

Well, now she knew.

And it was strange. How he just… showed up all of the sudden.

The rush of icy mountain wind from the open hangar ripped Acadia away from her musings. Pietr had an iron grip on one of her arms, pulling her towards the idling jet. Before she could tell herself otherwise, Acadia was scanning the area for Logan as they closed in on the jet's ramp.

"Where's Logan?" Acadia shouted the question at Pietr over the engine's roar.

"He is coming," He assured her in his thick, Russian voice. "Are you all right? You seem… different… somehow."

"I'm fine," Acadia lied, trying to smile. "I just want to get out of here." Well, as least that wasn't a _complete_ lie. But Pietr seemed to buy it and they entered the jet.

The "X-Jet", as it was affectionately called, was crammed with people. Between the rescued students and hostages, the surplus of people had to camp out on the floor. Pietr pointed to small space on the floor and led Acadia over. The cramped quarters meant they had to sit in very close proximity to each other, and the effect did not go unnoticed by Acadia's senses. She could feel the heat emanating from Pietr's skin; she could hear his ragged breath. His scent was a mix of salty sweat and sweet, masculine musk. Never before had she been this close to a guy, but she liked the sensations it brought.

Pietr glanced down at her and their eyes met. "Thanks for uh… watching my back in there," Acadia muttered.

"No problem," Pietr breathed, and Acadia caught him glance down to her lips and back up. His dark eyes were so obviously full of lust, but, instead of wanting to back away, Acadia was drawn in. She didn't recoil when he leaned closer—in fact, she closed the gap between them. Their lips met softly, both holding back. Pietr pulled away first, checking Acadia's eyes for reassurance for his actions, but all he saw was a want that mirrored his own.

Acadia had to remind herself that they in a room full of people. She reluctantly pulled away from Pietr's embrace, but remained leaning against him, if only for his comfort.

Somebody cleared their throat above them as a shadow covered their faces. Both Acadia and Pietr glanced up to see Logan standing over them. Pietr blushed and fidgeted while Acadia glared at the intruder. "What?" She snapped.

"No PDA. I'm still your teacher," Logan answered, just as brusque. "We're in a plane full of kids," _And I don't want to see you all over my daughter,_ he finished in his head. With that, he left them and took a seat near the controls by Storm.

Pietr grinned down at Acadia. "Awkward…" He mumbled as he nuzzled into her dark hair. Acadia couldn't help but smile.

"The construction on the mansion should be done within the month," Xavier informed Storm and Logan as they exited the hangar under the school. "I'm surprised you were so successful, with so little trouble."

"Oh, they're not done bothering us," Logan warned. "That will just provoke them."

Xavier sighed. "I'm afraid you're right. We need to be prepared for the next bout of this mess. Go get cleaned up—Jean can handle the students. We will all meet in my office later to discuss this… predicament."

Storm and Logan nodded, and did as they were told. Logan, however, had many other, more pressing, matters on his mind. Where was Kayla? He needed to confront her about his discovery. Did Acadia know? She didn't seem like it, but he couldn't be sure. Needless to say, he found no peace of mind.

Acadia and Pietr stepped off the jet with the rest of the caucus that returned to the school. Jean had recruited some of the older students and they were trying to retain some order. Jean and Johnny herded the younger children towards the elevator.

Immediately, they were ambushed by Rogue, who wrapped them both in a tight hug. "Thank God you're all right!" She gushed, holding them at arm's length. "I was so worried about all y'all."

"It's good to see you, Rogue," Acadia smiled, trying to be present in the conversation. All she really wanted to do was hunt down her mother in this goddamned mansion and interrogate her. How could she keep so many secrets?

Rogue seemed to notice her mental absence. "You're momma's upstairs, last I checked." She glanced between Acadia and Pietr, very obviously picking up on their newfound status. "She's been a wreck waitin' for you."

"Thanks," Acadia told her, and this time it was genuine.

"I'll be down here, with the others," Pietr told her. "Go find your mother."

Acadia grinned at him and squeezed his hand before taking off down the corridors. She bypassed Jean without getting enlisted to help with the children and made it to the elevators.

The upper levels were in as much chaos as the sublevels. The number of rooms that had been damaged left a surplus of students milling about. The younger ones got to stay in the remaining upper rooms under the supervision of Jean and Scott, while the older students had to relocate to the sublevels in makeshift bunks until there was once again room for them upstairs.

Acadia checked the kitchens first. Nothing. The living rooms. Nothing. Xavier's office. Nothing. Finally, she went upstairs. She only knew two of the rooms—her own and Logan's. Instead of knocking on Logan's door, she went to what had been her quarters. The bed was disheveled and there were toys on the floor; it had obviously been used for some of the younger children. However, there were still some clothes in drawers, and the shower worked, so she took the time to clean herself up. Being kept in a cage in a government base didn't award most of the amenities she was used to. Acadia scrubbed off the grime and gore of her last nightmarish experiences.

Of the meager selection of clothes she had been awarded, she chose a plain black tee shirt and too-big sweatpants. She gingerly picked up the dog tags, wiping her finger over the dried blood that covered the embossed words. WOLVERINE. Acadia put them under the faucet and washed the blood away, and then clutched them in her fist and continued her search for her mother.

She found Kayla in the kitchen, helping Storm and Jean prepare a meal big enough to feed the ravenous population of children in the mansion. Scott and Xavier were speaking in hushed tones in the corner of the room. Logan was, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be found. Acadia stood in the threshold for a moment, unsure of how to go forward. She'd imagined many times over how she would confront her mother, but now, in the moment of truth, she discovered that she couldn't bring herself to be as livid as she had been.

Kayla spotted her as she looked up from the bowl she was handing Jean, which would've clattered to the floor if Jean hadn't already had a hold on it. She rushed over to Acadia and pulled her into a fierce hug, which the teenager returned with just as much zeal.

"Thank God you're safe!" Kayla sobbed, not letting go. Acadia, who still clutched Logan's tags in her hand, could only nod as tears sparked in her eyes. Kayla pulled her away to hold her at arm's length, not bothering to wipe the tears that fell freely down her face. The activity in the kitchen seemed to halt altogether; there was no talking, no laughing, no cooking. Everyone had ceased in their various activities to witness the reunion taking place. "You're so thin! Come and sit down. What did they do to you? I swear, if they—"

"Mom, relax," Acadia cut her off. For the first time, she was actually relieved to hear her mother bombarding her with questions. "I'm fine." _But just barely,_ she thought, remembering how close she had been to having her memory erased… just like her father.

Acadia realized there would be time to speak to Kayla about her heritage. She stashed the metal tags in her pocket and took a seat at the table next to Pietr, who took her hand under the table and smiled. She returned his affections with chaste, aware that her mother was observing—very keenly. Kayla quirked an eyebrow and smirked, but said nothing. She abandoned her culinary efforts and took the seat next to Acadia, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Pietr retracted his hand and watched Acadia and her mother.


	20. Chapter 20

**Holy shit on an altar I'm alive! And I hope my readers are, too! Well, I think I've given a new meaning to MIA. Contrary to what popular belief may be, I actually had/have big plans for all my stories. *sigh* My work ethic doesn't keep up with me sometimes.**

**Anyway, this is just a filler sort of, to get me back in the swing of things with this storyline. I hope it's interesting enough to keep reading XP Well, here ya go:**

Acadia was glad that no one wanted to talk about the mission, or what had occurred in the base beforehand. She was grateful not to have had some random member of the medical staff poking at her as soon as she stepped in from the hangar; maybe all the commotion wasn't so bad, after all. Every few minutes, she would catch herself searching the room, and it always took her a second to realize whom she was waiting on. _Her dad_. If that didn't feel strange to even think, Acadia didn't know what strange was. But, all at once, the vague answers that she'd received from her mother growing up all made sense. Like any child with one parent, she'd questioned his absence frequently. Kayla always brushed them off with something along the lines of "He didn't want to have to leave" or "He'll come back, don't worry". It was eerie how accurate those two excuses actually became.

None of them felt the exhaustion until it hit all at once. It was as if something suddenly stripped any last bit of energy or adrenaline away at once. Acadia came to the realization that she couldn't actually give a definitive answer for the last time she'd slept at all. She leaned on one elbow on the table, listening the waning conversation as more of them disappeared to find a place to sleep. Kayla explained, watching her daughter's eyelids drop closed every few seconds. "You look like you haven't slept in days." She urged Acadia to stand and then did the same.

"That sounds about right," Acadia answered, a little bitterly. She dragged herself upstairs, only to remember that she no longer had a bed to sleep on. With a groan, she was about to return to the kitchen when Kayla stopped her.

"There's enough room for you to stay with me," She said quietly. Acadia was too tired to argue about sharing space with her mother and obliged. As she fell onto the bed, the dog tags slipped out of her pocket and onto the floor, the metal jingling on their way down to the carpet. Kayla heard the noise and jumped slightly. Upon investigating she found the chain and its two military-issue I.D.s. She turned the tags over in her hands, her slender fingers running over the raised letters slowly, thoughtfully. If her daughter hadn't already been deeply asleep, Kayla would've questioned her about how she'd come across Logan's dog tags.

"Damnit!" Logan cursed under his breath. "Where are those goddamn tags?"

Apparently, he was speaking a bit louder than he had intended, and Storm managed to hear him from around the corner at her place in the kitchen. "Logan–language!" She reprimanded.

Logan growled and rolled his eyes, but followed her voice to the kitchen. "You seen my tags?"

"No," Storm answered over the rim of her coffee mug, raising an eyebrow. "When was the last you know you had them?" Her tone was teasingly patronizing.

Logan just huffed and turned around–running right into Kayla. She made a small noise of surprise as they bumped into one another and Logan reached out to grasp her upper arms and steady her. "Whoa–sorry," He mumbled, suddenly feeling extremely awkward. His gaze went from looking over her shoulder to her necklace to the floor–bypassing meeting her eyes with his own.

"That's okay," Kayla answered as casually as possible. Noticing his unsettled demeanor, she moved to meet his eyes and asked, "… Everything okay?"

"What? Yeah. Of course." Logan cursed inwardly, usually he had no issues lying to people; he'd made quite a sport out of it over the years, come to think of it. "You seen my dog tags?"

Something flashed in Kayla's green eyes that Logan almost didn't catch. _Almost_. "Yeah," He voice was a little flatter, "Acadia had them. But she's still sleeping."

_Oh boy_, Logan thought with a sudden twist in his gut. Even he, the master of antisocial and avoidant behavior, knew this subject had to be breached–by all three of them. But he sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to do it. He knew Acadia wouldn't, but he had a sinking feeling that she'd made the discovery for herself.

While he was lost in thought, Kayla had begun to bypass him for the kitchen. "Kayla, wait–" The words left his mouth without his consent. She turned around, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she paused to hear him. "… Nevermind." Kayla gaze him a look that mixed concern and suspicion before continuing on her way.

Acadia was sitting cross-legged at the end of one of the leather couches. The way she had curled in on herself made it look like the overstuffed cushions were engulfing her. Her hands rested in her lap, toying with the tags she still had in her possession.

"_Dobroye utro_," A deep, accented voice resounded behind her before another body collapsed onto the adjacent cushion. Acadia looked over to Pietr and smiled in greeting, but it was so obviously halfhearted that the Russian's own mood dimmed. "What is wrong? Are you still hurt?" His eyes surveyed her for injuries.

"No, of course not," Acadia assured him. A long pause was followed with a sigh, and she finally spoke up. "Did you… ever overhear anything? From those scientists or the government guys, I mean."

Pietr's expression turned thoughtful. "I heard many things. Why?"

"No–anything, like"—God, why was this so difficult to bring up?—"Weapon X. Wolverine. Any of that sound familiar?"

"Well," Pietr clasped his hands together behind his head and leaned back into the couch, "The name Wolverine is very familiar. That's Logan. Weapon X… I think they were speaking of it while I was close-by."

It seemed like a few long, heavy minutes passed before he spoke again. "They spoke much of you, though." The fact seemed to bring up no small amount of anger; Acadia could practically smell it boiling to the surface within him. "Weapon X—I think you have something to do with it."

"Yeah, that's one way to put it," Acadia scoffed cynically.

"How do you mean?" Pietr frowned at her response, sitting up to look more intently at her.

"They kept saying this weapon guy was my dad. That's why they did so many blood tests." Acadia hadn't realized she'd started to hold her breath, but she couldn't seem to let it back out.

"… Why X? Was he an X-Man?"

"I think they'll using Roman numerals. They also mentioned an 11." Acadia's eyes were fixated on the lines of her palms, not to mention the infamous dog tags, as she tried to ignore the irony of Pietr's question.

"Well, do you want to find out who he is? I will help you," Pietr offered. The light reflected on the metal chain and caught his attention, causing him to reach for whatever Acadia was clutching so covetously.

"Don't—" She tried to say, but he'd already gotten them.

"Logan's been looking for these, _lyubit'_, how did you come to have them?" Pietr questioned with renewed curiosity.

"Found them while we were escaping the base," Acadia explained with as few words as possible.

"Why do you ask so many strange questions?" Pietr asked. He was trying to put the pieces together without any help, but she was running in all directions.

"That Weapon X guy—whatever that means—it's just another title for the Wolverine. I heard them say it." The words were rushed; Acadia wanted to answer him quickly, not wanting to dwell on it. She couldn't help but notice that she shared Logan's aversion to talking about anything other than the weather or something just as neutral.

Pietr examined the tags. "That makes no sense. What you are implying—"

"Is true," Acadia insisted.

"… I'm sure that this is much to process," Pietr finally said, his voice very quiet. He offered her the tags and Acadia let them fall into her outstretched hand. "And much to talk about with your mother." After surveying the room, Pietr leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her temple before leaving her to her thoughts.

**So? what'd ya think?**

**I have purposefully made Pietr much more Russian than he appears in the movies; A.K.A. still a trace of accent on his English, occasionally messes up his grammar, and uses Russian words. Here are the translations and the actual way to write them:**

**_Dobroye Utro - _доброе утро - "Good morning"  
**

**_Lyubit' - любить - "Love"_  
**

**_Yes, so sweet, him using a pet name. Not that Acadia actually knows that. She doesn't speak Russian XP_**


	21. Chapter 21

**These chapters feel really, really short. I'm sorry, I'm just so desperate to get this shit posted for all you patient people**.** Reviews are always appreciated! Oh, and don't be shy about sharing ideas with me :)**

**By the way, guys, I found a good reference as to what Acadia looks like: Marie Avgeropoulos**

* * *

Acadia didn't really feel like getting up from her corner of the couch, but her stomach began to growl to the point of being painful and she finally surrendered and made her way to the kitchen. A majority of the classes had been put on hiatus because of all the goings on, so most of the resident students were enjoying their time off. Of course, the older ones were still pinned with more long-term assignments, much to their displeasure. All of this meant that the common areas were much more crowded than Acadia wished to deal with at the moment. She gritted her teeth against her temper as a gang of boys hurtled down the hallway past her, making much too much noise—in her opinion.

"Acadia," A deep voice caught her attention as she was nearly to the kitchen, and she reluctantly turned around.

"Logan," She greeted back, trying to sound conversational. The truth of the matter was that he looked about as comfortable as she felt—which was close to nil.

Logan was the one to close the distance between them. In a few long strides he was towering over her. Acadia watched his expression, anxiously curious as to what he was thinking and what his thoughts were. _He probably has no idea,_ She told herself, but the presence of a social rift between the two of them hinted in the opposite direction.

"Have you seen my dog tags?" Logan finally managed.

Acadia didn't whether to be relieved or disappointed. On one hand, she was grateful for the lack of depth to their conversation; on the other, she desperately wanted some goddamn answers. "Uh, yeah—" Acadia pulled her hand from her pocket, the chain loosely tangled in her fingers as she held them up. "Here. The chain's broken. I think that other guy must've ripped them off while you were fighting."

It took Logan a moment to realize whom she meant by 'other guy'. He just chuckled and pushed his hair from his face with one hand. "You mean Victor?"

"Yeah, that one. He's an asshole," Acadia told him boldly. Logan stifled a laugh. "… How'd you know him?"

"Long story," Logan answered, his amusement rapidly disappearing.

The awkwardness waned, and Acadia desperately wanted to know more. She looked up and down the hall. When she looked back up at Logan, she said, "I don't have anywhere to be."

Logan raised one eyebrow at her smugness. "Fine. He's my brother."

Acadia's jaw slacked just a little, but she clamped it shut as soon as she noticed. "You're _related_ to that guy?"

"Yep," Logan answered curtly. He grabbed his tags from her, quite ready to end the conversation. He was about to tell Acadia goodbye when he paused with a sudden idea. "You know what? Here—" He reached for Acadia's hand and held her palm up, noticing how much smaller it was than his; though, he wasn't dumb enough to ignore the deadly points of her currently retracted claw-like nails. He let the tags and their broken chain slip from his fingers. "You keep these."

Acadia felt no small amount of shock. "Thanks, but… why?" She ran her thumb over the word WOLVERINE as she gripped them.

Logan opened his mouth to answer, but discovered that he didn't even _have_ an answer. He knew why; hell, she probably knew why, too. But saying it was another thing. "Why not?" He finally said with a slight smirk playing at one corner of his mouth. Acadia smiled and stashed them in her pocket, with her next task being getting the chain fixed. A silence settled in the hallway before Logan shifted and looked over his shoulder. "Well—I'll see you around, kid."

"Right," Acadia nodded and they both headed separate directions. _Well, it could've gone worse_, She reasoned as she scrounged up a breakfast for herself.

She didn't immediately say anything aloud when Kayla sat down at the table beside her, but she didn't have to wait very long before the silence was broken. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," Acadia answered quickly, only glancing up at her mother for a brief second.

Unlike most other young adults in her age group, she didn't have issues getting along with her mother; this was mostly due to the fact that she didn't have anybody else most of the time. She didn't keep things from Kayla, and vice versa—at least, that's what Acadia had believed before. So, when an awkward silence began to settle between them, she wasn't sure how to react. The one subject that was important was so impossible to breach for all parties involved that their relationships with each other had come to a grinding halt.

Acadia had thought that getting rescued would fix everything; she would no longer be a captive test subject, both her and her mother would be safe… Instead she had been thrown into a whole new genre of challenge. Maybe it was the fatigue and hunger talking, but Acadia found herself actually _wanting_ to be locked up somewhere if it meant not having to look truth in the face.

_Don't keep putting this off, it won't become easier,_ A familiar accented voice resounded in her head. The professor. Acadia gritted her teeth, wondering how that old man kept track of everyone's thoughts—including his own—without going mad.

_Practice,_ The same voice answered with a chuckle, only making her more frustrated.

Acadia was yanked from her thoughts by Kayla breaking the silence. "I'm so glad that you're back safe—that everyone is back safe." Idle small-talk, but it was a start. "Acadia, I—"

"You what?" Acadia cut her off, her voice taking on a challenging tone.

If Kayla was annoyed by the interruption, she didn't show it. "I think it's high time I tell you some things I never thought I'd need to."

Acadia looked over at her mother, coldly expressionless. She didn't _do_ emotional well, but coming off as disinterested and cynical was the perfect cover-up. "And what might that be?" She feigned curiosity.

"There's no need for so much attitude," Kayla warned. When Acadia said nothing, she looked down at her hands and continued, "I never thought I'd see him again. I thought he was dead." There was no need to specify. "To be honest, I thought I was going to die, too."

She began to recount the long-buried story of how she'd originally been planted with Logan Howlett as a set of eyes and ears for the colonel. How they'd faked her death—the reason he submitted to the Adamantium experiment. She told Acadia everything about the ordeal at 3 Mile Island. About her Aunt Emma, whom Acadia had only met a couple of times as a child. About the reason Logan didn't remember—the reason that she was sure he hadn't ever returned.

"I didn't want to ever get your hopes up," Kayla added. "Until now, I had no idea. You have to believe I never thought anything like this would happen. It's what I've been fighting to keep from exposing you to."

Acadia said nothing; throughout the entire story she had simply stared straight ahead, which happened to be the fridge. Her gaze was unfocused, her mind's eye taking up her attention as it tried to visualize each scene of Kayla's tale as if it were a movie—just a work of fiction.

"And how much of this does he know?" She finally asked, trying to keep her voice as level as possible.

"I haven't the slightest idea," Kayla answered honestly. "Apart from the military archives, Victor, Emma and I are the only ones who actually know what happened. I told all of this to the professor; they'd been in the dark here about much of it, as well."

After a long bout of silence, Acadia looked over at Kayla with an incredulous smirk. "So you were a spy for the government?"

Kayla quirked an eyebrow and chuckled. "I wouldn't go _that_ far."

**So, it's finally out in the open! Now all we have to do is convince Logan to say it out loud, which I'm still working on accomplishing XP He's not too pleased.**


End file.
